Business or Pleaure?
by carebear88
Summary: WINNER OF THE NUKE FF AWARD FOR BEST ROMANTIC STORY. Rated M for later chapters.
1. 32B

**A/N: This is a story I thought about while thinking how to write the sequel to "A New Home". You'll have to wait a little longer for that one, so in the meantime, I hope you guys enjoy this one, instead. Thanks in advance for reading!  
**

**Summary:** AU. Luke and Noah meet on a plane to Paris. What follows is intrigue, secrets, and a forbidden affair.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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Noah sat in 32B next to the window of the Air Europa Boeing 767. He looked out at the tarmac of LaGuardia and surmised that it might as well have been a wicker basket he was traveling in, comfy seats or no comfy seats. It was coach but it was comfortable, a good sign, he guessed, for someone who had never flown before. And yet it all felt so flimsy, so horribly unstable with the thought of just the plate of glass soon to be separating him from the clouds 30,000 feet up. He closed the shade on the window and watched as more people began filing into the aircraft. Seven hours. He could stand seven hours with complete strangers and a potentially turbulent ride. Winds over the Atlantic, nothing but ocean below them for thousands of miles, nothing but clouds to separate the earth and the sky—

"Excuse me, sir?"

Noah jumped and looked up. He realized he had been grasping the seatbelt looped tightly around his waist, hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. He looked up at the young man staring down at him with an amused grin.

"Could you help me put my carry-on in the thing here?"

Noah blinked. Just a moment ago all he could think about was twisting steel and the boom of the engine as the plane went down, down, down over endless miles of water. Now, looking at this stranger with the striped shirt and blond hair, he couldn't remember his own last name.

"_Parlez-vous anglais_?" the man laughed.

Noah shook his head and unbuckled his seatbelt. He ducked to move out of his row and stumbled into the aisle. "Right," he said, "sorry." He took the other end of the man's duffle bag and helped him stuff it in the overhead compartment.

"Thanks," the man said. He looked over his shoulder to see more people coming in behind him. Noah sat at his window again and the man sat next to him in the aisle seat. "Well," said the blond stranger, "guess this means we're stuck together for seven hours."

Noah put his seatbelt on again and let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah," he said.

The man looked over at him. "Don't sound so enthused—"

"No, it's not that. I'm sorry, I'm just not a very good flyer."

The man nodded slowly. "Oh."

Noah laughed again. "Aren't you lucky you're with me?"

The blonde stranger looked at him with an eyebrow raised and a reassuring smile. "I'm Luke," he said, extending his hand.

Noah shook it, worried that his palm must have been cold and sweaty. "I'm Noah," he said. "Don't worry, I'll try not to puke on you." He felt his face become flush the instant he said it, mortified beyond all control that he was not only the most nervous person on the planet, but also the dumbest.

Luke laughed, hinting a set of straight-rowed pearls in his mouth. "You'll be fine," he said.

An awkward silence sliced between them. Luke picked up a magazine from the pouch of the seat in front of him and began flipping through _SkyMall_ at the overpriced gadgets and useless household items. As the last passenger sat down in his seat, Noah tensed when he saw the flight attendants closing the doors of the aircraft.

"Business or pleasure?"

Noah released his grip on the lap belt and looked at Luke. "What?"

"Are you going to Paris for business or for pleasure?" Luke elaborated.

"Oh," Noah said, raising his eyebrows. "Neither, really. I'm meeting my father for a week. He's a, uh, military man—sort of like father-son bonding thing." Noah realized he was rambling, paused and leaned to his neighbor. "What about you?"

"I'm studying abroad for the month. French class at NYU."

Noah raised a brow and turned to him. "Really? I applied at NYU."

"No kidding!" Luke exclaimed, turning closer and smiling. "Where do you go?"

"Well, I just moved to New York this summer. I'm studying at The New School for Drama. I, uh," he smiled and chuckled to himself, "I'm studying to be a director."

"That's great!" Luke said.

Noah smiled, surprised at this man's genuine enthusiasm for a near stranger. He had almost forgotten where he was until the plane made a noise and a flight attendant made an announcement over the speaker.

"Ladies and gentleman, thank you for traveling Air Europa, non-stop from LaGuardia to Paris. We are second in line for takeoff and we'll be in the air shortly."

Another flight attendant repeated the message in French and Noah felt his guts drop to his knees. He held onto his lap belt as if keeping it in place and sat straight ahead. He swallowed hard as he felt the plane steer away from the terminal and out onto the tarmac, his heart beating wildly in the paper box of his chest.

"Are you, uh . . ." Noah swallowed and tried to focus on the question he was asking, tried to take his mind off of their impending departure. "Are you a native of New York?"

Luke continued flipping through the magazine and shook his head. "Nope, I'm from a little town in Illinois—Oakdale."

Noah nodded and pushed his head up against the seat as the flight attendants began going through procedure for takeoff and in the case of emergencies. Noah watched as the attendants held up the safety manuals and life jackets.

"In the case of a water landing . . ."

"_Dans le cas d'un atterrissage de l'eau_ . . ."

Noah breathed heavily and cast his eyes downward.

"Where are you from?" Luke asked, putting the magazine back in the front seat's pouch.

Noah snapped his eyes at him, barely hearing the question over the blood pumping in his ears. "Uh, all over. My dad and I moved around a lot."

"And you're just _now_ taking your first flight?" Luke laughed.

Noah shrugged. "First time for everything, I guess." He closed his eyes to steady his breathing, unaware that Luke was smiling at him.

Minutes, hours, millenniums passed before the captain's voice came on over the intercom and announced their departure. "Flight attendants, please prepare for takeoff."

Noah sucked in a deep breath as he felt the engines of the plane charging up to leave the runway. "Oh, God," he said. He gripped the armrests as the plane moved faster down the runway, building speed for a spectacular takeoff.

"I don't mean to be personal," Luke said beside him, "but I feel like I've seen you before."

Noah opened his eyes and looked at a very curious Luke. "What?" he asked.

Luke shook his head. "Yeah, I don't know. Maybe it's just one of those things, like you have a really familiar face."

Noah continued to stare at the seat ahead of him and tightened his lap belt. "I guess I kind of just blend into the crowd." He closed his eyes and tried to think about what they were even talking about amongst his jitters. He knew that in any other time, this kind of conversation would have annoyed him, but now that the plane was most definitely picking up speed and the engines were making all kinds of noises, he wanted more than anything for this man to keep talking, if only to distract his troubled mind.

"Anyway," Luke said, crossing his legs nonchalantly. "What do you like to direct?"

Noah closed his eyes and focused on the man's voice over the acceleration of the aircraft. "Uh, anything, really. Anything they assign us. At the end of the semester, I'm hoping to, uh—" Noah swallowed painfully, his heart beating like a rubber ball on a paddle. "I'm hoping to direct a short film. Black and white, no sound. Very artsy."

"Sounds awesome. What does your girlfriend think of all that?"

Noah shook his head, his eyes still closed and his mouth going dry as the plane rattled and sped up faster and faster. "I don't have a girlfriend," he said, putting his hands in his lap. "You?"

Luke laughed. "No, not exactly."

Noah opened his eyes and looked at Luke, curious at the tone of his voice. Suddenly, the plane's front end lifted off the runway and one, two, three heartbeats later the back end followed and the plane was suspended in the air. Noah choked on his own breath and gripped the armrests again, unaware that Luke's hand was resting on the right one and he was now grabbing his neighbor's hand. He looked at Luke and removed it instantly.

"Sorry," he said.

Luke smiled at him, a hint of amusement in his eyes along with another soft emotion Noah couldn't pin down. "It's okay," he said.

Noah looked at Luke and felt his stomach doing cartwheels, rising and dropping as the plane climbed higher and higher into the sky. He felt elated for a moment as the plane sunk in the thermos of the sky, like he was on a rollercoaster instead of a flight to Paris where this stranger with blond hair had an intriguing quality about him Noah just couldn't figure out.

Luke surprised Noah by leaning closer and reaching over him. Noah's heart stopped for a moment as the man came closer, his sweet, musky smell wafting in Noah's face. Luke reached out and opened the shade of the window, revealing a miniature version of New York as they circled the city and steered towards the ocean. Noah took his eyes off of Luke as his neighbor sat back, and turned to the window to admire the scenery before them.

"Wow," he breathed.

"See?" Luke said. "That wasn't so bad."

**To be continued.**


	2. Transference

A few minutes after takeoff, when the plane reached a comfortable, level altitude, the flight attendants came around with trolleys of drinks and snacks. A pretty, young brunette attendant stopped by Luke and Noah's row.

"Drink, _monsieur_?" The woman asked Luke with a French accent.

"Just water for me," he said.

The woman in bright red lipstick filled his plastic cup with a smile and handed it to him with a coy kind of wink.

"Thanks," Luke said, raising his glass to her.

"And you, _monsieur_?" she said to Noah.

He shook his head and held up a hand. "Nothing for me, thank you." The attendant pushed the cart away without so much as a second glance, and Noah leaned over to Luke. "I think she likes you," he said with a smile.

Luke looked over his shoulder at the woman. "Really?" he asked, turning back to Noah.

Noah nodded and raised an eyebrow. "She's pretty, right?"

Luke shrugged and put his tray down to set his drink on it. "I guess," he said. He took a sip and said under his breath, "Doesn't really matter, anyway."

Noah looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Luke laughed and lowered his head, seemingly embarrassed. "Well, I . . ." He paused, peering intently into his cup of iced water. "I'm gay," he said with a shrug.

Noah blinked and raised his eyebrows. "Oh," he said after a bit.

Luke took another sip. "Yeah." He suddenly looked at Noah. "That's not a problem, is it?"

Noah shook his head. "No, not at all."

Luke bit his bottom lip and shrugged. "It's not like I announce it to every stranger I meet on an airplane."

"Hey, it's cool—"

"And now that you know, please don't think I was, you know, coming on to you before. Like when I said I thought you looked familiar?"

"I didn't think twice about it," Noah said. "And, I mean, I'm glad you told me that you're, you know . . . _gay_. We may be strangers, but we're sharing a seat for seven more hours, right?"

Luke nodded and smiled. "Right." He took another drink, emptying the last of the cup in his mouth and set it back on his tray. "And now that that awkwardness has passed, it looked like you're not afraid to fly anymore."

Noah smiled. "Yeah, I . . ." he looked at Luke. "I feel more relaxed. And I'm sorry for freaking out during takeoff, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it," Luke said. "I'm glad I can be here for moral support." Noah grinned at him widely and Luke lowered his head, his cheeks burning. "Anyway, now that you don't have any competition to worry about, you should go after that flight attendant." Luke nudged Noah's arm.

"Naw," Noah said, looking out the window. "Contrary to what you might think, I'm a little awkward around women."

Luke laughed. "And here I had you pegged as a regular Casanova when I first saw you."

Noah looked at the man and Luke instantly avoided his gaze. He knew Luke was flirting, and whether or not it was intentional, he didn't know, but it didn't make him as uncomfortable as he thought it would.

"Yes," he said, keeping up the mood, "I'm a lady-killer, you found me out."

Luke laughed, keeping his eyes down. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and unbuckled his lap belt instead. "Excuse me," he said. He raised his glass and tray and inched out of the row, moving to the aisle. He walked towards the bathroom. Noah watched him leave, then shook his head and looked out the window at the endless ocean below.

"What is wrong with you?" he mumbled to his reflection in the glass.

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Luke looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and rubbed his chin. "What is _wrong_ with you?" he asked himself.

Everything. Everything was wrong the moment he saw Noah in the seat by the window. He hadn't known at first if this stranger beside him was gay or not, but that didn't stop him from flirting uncontrollably, as if some switch inside of him were stuck.

Luke didn't feel like himself. It wasn't in his nature to be so comfortable around new people, especially someone as gorgeous, yet shy, as Noah—

"Stop it," Luke hissed to his reflection. He turned the water on and splashed his face, rubbing eyes. "He's not gay," he told himself. "He's not gay, so quit it."

And still, after insisting to himself that his neighbor would never in a million years be interested in him, Luke found himself straightening up in the mirror and checking his hair. He smoothed the wrinkles on his shirt and washed his hands. Luke exited the bathroom, realizing confidently but dreading what he knew he shouldn't do, and walked down the aisle to his seat. He smiled, ready to strike up another friendly, platonic conversation with his new acquaintance, but stopped suddenly when he saw Noah resting with headphones in his ears, his face turned towards the window.

Luke held his empty cup and put the tray up to slide back in his seat. He sighed and took out another magazine from the backpack he had put under his seat and began flipping through it.

"Figures," he said to himself.

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About forty-five minutes later, after Luke grew bored of his magazine and decided to try and get some rest, he was jolted awake by a spurt of turbulence. His guts did a back flip as the plane dipped in the wind and leveled out again. Luke looked over at Noah and saw that he was still sound asleep, the buds still in his ears. He threw his empty cup in the trash as an attendant came by with a garbage bag and put his tray up to stretch his legs.

Luke held on to the armrests as more turbulence rocked the cabin and subsequently stopped, leaving just a slight after-effect of a sickly feeling in Luke's stomach. Noah made a noise in his sleep and stirred. Luke looked over at him and tensed as Noah shifted in his seat. He rolled his head to the side and fell on Luke's shoulder, resting ever-so-gently as he continued to sleep.

Luke's heart jumped to his throat, a panicking feeling growing in his gut. He wondered if he should move his neighbor's head, else Noah should wake and find himself embarrassingly parked on Luke's shoulder. Luke looked around to make sure no nosey passengers were making any assumptions about them.

"Um . . ."

Luke looked down at the top of Noah's head as he rested on him. Noah made another noise in his sleep and Luke felt himself smiling. He closed his eyes and savored the moment, bending his head slightly to take in the roses-and-earth smell of Noah's hair. He tried not to let the situation envelope him completely, tried to tell himself that after another second of euphoria, after just another moment of pure bliss, he would move his shoulder and wake Noah up. A minute passed, then another, then Luke was sure another five minutes went by and still Noah rested comfortably on his shoulder.

Turbulence rocked the cabin again, stronger and more commanding than before, and Noah awoke with a start. He sat up straight and looked at his neighbor. Luke stared at him wildly, hoping against hope Noah didn't feel embarrassed or upset that he had fallen on Luke's shoulder.

"Sorry," Noah said. His voice was husky and almost breathless, as though he had just come up for air after a passionate kiss.

Luke felt the air escape from his lungs and used all the energy in his body to etch out the slightest hint of a smile. "It's okay," he said. He cleared his throat. "Just a little turbulence, it'll pass."

Noah nodded, still staring at Luke with dreamy, wandering eyes. "Yeah." He blinked hard and licked his lips. "Would you excuse me? I need, to, uh . . ." Noah motioned towards the bathroom and Luke scrambled to get his seatbelt off, springing from his seat.

"Yeah, sure." He stood to let Noah pass, and just as the man was almost out of their row, another wave of turbulence came about, causing some passengers to shriek. Noah lost his balance as the plane dipped and leveled out in the sky, and he fell into Luke's arms.

"I got you," Luke said, his lips near Noah's ear.

Noah shuddered as Luke's breath caressed his skin and pulled his head up, his hands still gripping Luke's arms for support. The two men stared at one another for a moment, each saying nothing but their silence as loud as the boom of a fireworks show. Noah peered into Luke's eyes and saw the pupils of his brownish-green eyes dilate.

"I, uh . . ." Noah struggled with the words. He pulled away. "I have to—" Noah turned from Luke and stumbled down the aisle as more turbulence shook the fuselage. Luke sat down in his seat slowly, and stared ahead at the seat before him.

Noah locked the door to the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, certain he was going to throw up or cry or scream in that exact moment. He held his breath and let out a long sigh. Noah stood and looked at himself in the mirror. He splashed cold water on his face from the sink.

"Easy . . ." he said to himself. "Take it easy."

Something was wrong. His heart felt out of place, as though it were beating in all directions in his chest and couldn't decide which way to leap out. It was insane, everything his was thinking and feeling and even longing for. Sure, he may have questioned himself once or twice in New York, but his father would have never stood for something like that, especially not since Noah had lied to him about which school he was going to—

But it didn't matter. Noah wasn't gay. What he felt for this new acquaintance was gratitude and nothing more, the kind of attachment one feels for someone after they've saved their life. Transference, they called it in the psyche world.

"Yeah," Noah said to his reflection. "It's nothing." He dried his face with a paper towel and threw it in the trash. "It's nothing."

He opened the door to the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks as Luke stood before him, fist raised in midair to knock on the door.

Luke lowered his hand and stammered. "I . . . I was just—"

No thinking, no feeling, no transference in that moment. Everything fell around Noah in a white blur and became nothing. He leaned in and took Luke's head in his hands, swooping in for a passionate, breathless kiss. With nothing but the aircraft separating them from the water and sky, Noah felt himself become weightless as he pressed his lips against Luke's, breathing his soul into this other man as though his body couldn't contain it anymore. He pulled away gently brushing his thumb over Luke's temple and stared into the bewildered man's eyes.

Noah held a breath as Luke leaned in closer for another kiss, then pulled away instantly as a flight attendant came through the curtain separating them from first class. Noah walked back to his seat, leaving Luke alone and dumbfounded near the restrooms. Noah slumped in his seat and pressed his head against the glass of the window, banging on it gently with his forehead, wishing he could escape and fly away.

**To be continued**


	3. Mixed Signals

**A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews! I'm sorry about my crappy French, I've had to use an online translator to help me out, so it's not 100 accurate.**

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_Oh God, oh God, oh God . . ._

Noah swallowed the lump forming in his throat and put a hand over his chest to try and steady his raging heartbeat. He felt like he was in a nightmare, one where everything went wrong and no one understood him. What the hell had happened back there, anyway? It was as if he left his own body and some stranger took over, someone far more powerful than him, and did something Noah thought he would never in his life do.

He looked towards the bathrooms to see if Luke was coming. Noah rubbed his cheek and tried to think of what he could say. Should he confront him? Pretend nothing had happened? The flight was booked, so there was no way he could change seats . . . a joke! He could say it was a joke. Yeah. That could work.

Noah saw Luke coming from the front end of the plane and felt as a rubber band tightened around his chest. His face felt hot and his blood pumped alkaline.

Luke glanced at Noah and sat down in his seat. He buckled his seatbelt and folded his hands in his laps coolly, no hint of fear or hesitation on his face. Noah swallowed one last time and mustered a fake smile.

"So I guess I gave you quite a surprise there," he said with a laugh.

Luke continued to look ahead. He shifted nervously in his seat, his face now registering the tiniest hint of distress. "Yeah," he said. "You sure did."

Noah suddenly felt bad and didn't know why. He felt like he was lying to Luke, felt as though he was just trying to save face while feeding Luke to the wolves. He laughed again, aware of the squeak in his throat.

"Hey, you know it was just a joke, ri—?"

"Are you gay?" Luke said suddenly.

Noah looked at him, stunned. His phony smile faded. "What?"

"It's a simple question," Luke said, "Are you gay?"

Noah opened his mouth but no words came out. He looked at Luke's calm, quizzical face and felt at a loss of words. "I—"

"Because if you are, you need to come clean. Otherwise, I'm getting mixed signals," he moved his hands around, his face patronizing.

"I told you, I'm not—"

"No," Luke said with a laugh. He pointed to Noah. "No, see that's where you're wrong. You didn't really _tell_ me anything. You said you were shy around girls and then the minute we find ourselves alone, you kiss me—"

"Look, it was nothing!" Noah said, his voice a harsh whisper.

Luke raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Noah licked his lips, feeling as though he was losing whatever argument they were having. "It was . . . it was just a joke!" Luke leaned in, imploring Noah to explain further. "I mean," Noah stammered, "it doesn't mean what you think it means. I was just . . . _grateful_ you've been so nice to me on my first plane ride."

"Grateful?" Luke said, spitting the word like it was as foreign as French.

Noah nodded, his confidence in his own lie building. "Yeah," he said.

Luke let out a condescending breath and shook his head, turning to sit straight ahead in his seat. "You're got a funny way of showing gratitude, you know that?"

Noah sat back in his seat, his eyes searching for some kind of truth out in the distance. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to confuse you. It's stressful, you know, this being my first flight and everything—"

"Noah, don't—"

"I haven't been thinking clearly since I got on the plane, and then I'll have my father to deal with once we land—"

"It's fine," Luke said.

Noah looked at him. "Really?"

Luke shrugged and avoided eye contact. "Yeah, you don't have to explain. It was just one of those things . . . heat of the moment." He met Noah's eyes. "We all have moments like that. A lapse of judgment, right?"

Noah smiled. "Right." He felt himself relaxing, like he had just dodged a bullet with his name written on it. He sank back into his seat.

Luke turned forward again and looked to the aisle so Noah couldn't see his disappointed face. He closed his eyes tightly, letting a wave of hurt pass over him, and swallowed the tears inching up the back of his throat.

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Three hours into the flight, the attendants came around with dinner and the pilot announced a movie about to be shown. The turbulence had quieted down and it seemed like it was going to be a smooth ride from there on out. Noah and Luke barely spoke after their little incident, exchanging casual grins, instead.

Noah poked at the chicken dinner before him on his tray and scrunched his nose. "Does this even count as food?" he asked Luke.

His neighbor peeled the cover off of his own meal and made no gesture of amusement. "You get what you pay for," he said lowly.

Noah had noticed that Luke was sulking. He wanted to cheer him up somehow, had tried to make casual small talk as the hours waned on, but Luke had completely shut himself down, responding to Noah about as warmly as a lamppost.

The large screen at the front of the cabin flickered on and the movie began playing after a few commercials for the airline.

"Oh!" Noah said, putting his hand on Luke's arm. "This is _Roman Holiday_, I love this movie!"

It took Luke every fiber of his being not to melt at Noah's touch. He felt his arm tingling even after Noah pulled away, and shifted in his seat. He cleared his throat. "What's it about?" Luke asked.

Noah smiled at him. "You've never seen it? Oh, it's a great movie! Audrey Hepburn is a princess and she escapes from a palace while she's on tour in Rome. She pretends to be a student and Gregory Peck spends the day in the city with her."

Luke smiled as Noah related the plot with him. His enthusiasm was infectious, and he enjoyed seeing Noah excited about something.

"But the catch is," Noah went on, lowering his voice for effect and moving in closer to Luke, "Greg knows she's a princess and he has to play along if he wants to get an exclusive story on her. And then at the end he has to decide if he's going to rat her out or . . ."

"Keep her secret?"

Noah stared into Luke's mossy eyes and felt that familiar feeling surge within him, that same feeling he had when he stood near the bathrooms and Luke had surprised him in the doorway, waiting and vulnerable and somehow in-tune with what Noah was thinking, just by the look in his gorgeous eyes . . .

Luke smiled. "I think I'm going to like this movie," he said. He turned in his seat and put the headphones next to the armrest over his head. He looked at Noah, surprised to see the man still staring at him. "Are you going to watch the movie?" he asked.

Noah blinked as if coming out of a dream and nodded. "Yeah," he said with a smile. He put his headphones on and turned the sound on to watch the film before them.

Luke held up his glass of soda the flight attendant had given him earlier. "_À la votre_," he said to Noah.

Noah smiled and help up his water. "Cheers," he said, pressing the lip of his cup to Luke's. They sipped their drinks together and turned back to the movie, eating dinner and watching the black-and-white classic as the plane sailed smoothly along.

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With only two hours left in the flight and most of the passengers asleep in their seats, Noah sat awake near the window, his head resting on the glass and looking down at the darkness below. He became excited at the prospect of being in Paris—seeing the sites, tasting the local cuisine, fumbling through his English-to-French dictionary. He tried not to think about his real reason for going, swallowing the thought as though it were a bad aftertaste in his mouth. He loved his father, of course, and it meant the world to him that he asked Noah to join him in Paris, but underneath it all . . . he dreaded seeing his father.

He wanted to be like the princess in the movie and escape from whatever palace he found himself in to roam the city by himself. Even more, he wanted what the heroine and leading man of the film had: chemistry. He wanted his own hilarious adventures and cultural mishaps. He wanted to kiss someone after a nightly swim and hold someone as passionately as Gregory Peck had held Audrey Hepburn.

Noah turned his head to look at a sleeping Luke. The man's head rested nearly on his own shoulder, cocked the side as the pillow under his head did nothing to support Luke's neck.

Noah shifted towards him. He smiled as he watched Luke sleep, not a breath out of place as the man dreamed carelessly. Noah found himself reaching a hand out and stroking Luke's smooth cheek with the back of his hand, letting his fingers trail along the man's jaw line and down to his cleft chin. He closed his eyes and took in the moment, shutting out all the negative voices in his head and focused on what his soft-spoke heart had to say.

Noah thought about the end of the movie they had just watched, how Gregory Peck had let Audrey Hepburn go because they lived in two completely different worlds. It was a bittersweet goodbye, not with tears, but with longing gazes and knowing smiles. It wasn't the most Hollywood of all romantic comedy endings, but it was certainly the most believable.

Noah pulled his hand away and sat back in his seat. He looked down at the sleeping Luke and sighed heavily. "Goodbye," he said.

**To be continued**


	4. Bienvenue vers la France

Paris was rainy and cool when the plane touched down at five o'clock in the evening. Noah watched as drops of rain splattered and streamed down his window as the aircraft was carried over to the terminal. Passengers began gathering their bags from the overhead storage compartments and anxious family members began turning on their cell phones to call their loved ones back home.

Luke unbuckled his seatbelt. "So you survived," he said to Noah.

Noah smiled weakly and stretched his arms. "Yeah, I guess I did." He looked at Luke and the man gave him his own half-hearted grin.

"_Bienvenue vers la France_."

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The walk down the gate to the terminal felt like a lifetime for Noah. He stole glances at Luke, wondering what the man was thinking as he kept his eyes cast downward to his shoes.

_Say something!_ Noah thought. _Anything!_

They reached the terminal where a crowd of people gathered, some waiting for the next flight, others waiting to greet their friends or significant others as they left the gate. Noah watched as a woman ran past them and jumped in the arms of a nearby man who was holding flowers. He spun her around and showered her face in kissed.

Luke adjusted the duffle bag over his shoulder and let his backpack fall to his side. Noah peered over by the ticket gate and saw a man in a uniform holding up a sign with his name on it.

"Well, this is where I meet my study abroad officer," Luke said, chancing a look at Noah.

He nodded. "Yeah, I see my ride over there," he said, pointing to the man holding the sign.

A silence wedged between them as more passengers filed out of the gate. Noah lowered his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Listen, uh . . ."

Luke raised his hooded gaze and looked at Noah.

"I don't really . . ." Noah stammered. He leaned in and whispered, "I don't really know what to say."

Luke shrugged and stared at him as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Say goodbye."

Luke's casualty stung Noah like a pinprick to his heart. "Will I . . . ever see you again?" Noah asked.

Luke's face softened. "Maybe," he said. He stared at Noah for a moment, then pursed his lips and held out his hand. "Anyway. It was nice meeting you, Noah Mayer."

Noah took his hand—his mood dropping considerably like someone had just given him a bad health report. "Yeah," he said, shaking Luke's hand, "it was nice meeting you, too."

Their hand's lingered in each other's grasp for a moment more until Luke gave him a nod and began turning away. Noah put his hand on Luke's arm and spun him back around, pulling him in for a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around Luke's neck and Luke reciprocated by hugging his waist. They swayed for a moment, the power of Noah's impulsive move rocking them both slightly. Noah closed his eyes and soaked in the embrace. He buried his face in Luke's shoulder before gently pulling away. They stood together for what felt like a thousand years, both men holding onto each other's arms as though letting go would mean they would both drown. Luke stared up into Noah's sapphire eyes and leaned in closer, close enough for their noses to touch, until Noah subsequently pulled away.

"Bye," he whispered in Luke's ear.

And then he was gone, fading away like an apparition as Luke stood motionless in his spot. He turned to watch Noah leave, grasping the strap on his duffle bag to keep from falling over.

Noah walked up to his greeter and the man in the army uniform lowered the sign. "Noah Mayer?" he said.

Noah nodded. "That's me,"

The older gentleman with a short-cropped haircut and clean-pressed uniform stood straight. "I'm General Conley. Col. Mayer had business in Châtillon. He sends his apologies that he couldn't meet you in the airport."

"Thank you," Noah said. He followed the general out of the terminal and to baggage claim, fighting the urge to look back as Luke watched him disappear in the throng of people.

0000000

Noah sat on the edge of his bed in the adjoining room of his father's suit at the prestigious Hôtel Lotti. His bags were still unpacked and sitting by the window. He admired the gold filigree of the room and the simple, tasteful decorations. He looked at the clock on his nightstand and sighed as it read 6:35. Noah picked up the phone on his dresser and called General Conley's room.

"This is General Conley," the man said on the other end of the line.

Noah rolled his eyes at the man's rigidity and disciplined tone. "Yes, this is Noah Mayer. I'm going to be stepping out for an hour or two, I just wanted to call to make sure that was okay."

"Of course, sir," the general said. "We can have a chaperone waiting for you in the lobby in five minutes."

"Uh, actually, I'd kind of like to go by myself."

"Sir, it's your first night in Paris, we strongly suggest you—"

"Oh, come on," Noah said. "It's only for a little bit. I don't need a babysitter."

There was a pause on the other end. "Very well, sir."

"Thanks," Noah said. He nearly hung up, but then out the phone back to his mouth when he remembered something. "Oh, and General? Do you know when my father will be back tonight?"

"I can't say, sir." The general said. "But I'll inform you the minute he arrives."

"Thank you," Noah said. He hung up the phone and gathered his cell phone and wallet with newly-exchanged money.

Noah stepped out onto the busy sidewalk of the hotel and admired the garden across the street. The rain had since let up, showering the luminescent city in a hazy mist, instead. Noah took a right and walked down the street, passing the intersection to the next block. He walked by store windows and fashionable boutiques. Patrons of the city had their overcoat collars flipped up to guard their ears and necks from the chilly May weather. Noah turned a corner and had to walk fast with the crowd just to keep up with the vibrations of the city. He stopped at a small bistro and peered into the window, realizing how hungry he was.

Noah entered the quaint, pipe-smelling establishment and took a seat at a small table near the front with his back turned to the bar. A waiter came by and put a menu before him.

"_Bonjour, monsieur_," he said.

"_Bonjour_," Noah said, nodding.

"_Que aimez-vous?_" the tall, young waiter asked.

"Um . . ." Noah studied the very French, very complicated menu that had no pictures whatsoever. "I'm sorry, I don't speak French."

The waiter peered down at him, hands folded near his stomach. "_Ce qui?_"he asked. He pointed to the menu and tried to explain to Noah what the words meant, his voice getting louder the more confused Noah seemed to be.

Noah threw up his hands and handed the menu back to the waiter. "I give up. Coffee?" he said. He repeated the word slowly and the waiter frowned at him.

"Ah, ah, _café, monsieur?_"

Noah nodded. "_Oui, s'il vous plait_."

The waiter took the menu and Noah watched, irritated as the snide man rolled his eyes. "_Tres bon, monsieur_." He left and Noah heard him say under his breath, "_Américain stupide_."

Noah felt his face become hot at the man's obvious insult and slunk low in his chair. He felt his stomach as it rumbled, protesting a lack of food. The meal on the airplane had barely filled him up at the time, and just thinking back to the time when he sat with Luke made Noah sigh.

"What kind of an idiot comes to France without learning the language?"

Noah turned to the voice at the bar. "Excuse—" He stopped dead in mid-sentence and felt his face fall like a ton of bricks. Luke sat on a stool at the bar, seated backwards to face Noah at his table. He smiled at him, those pearly teeth unmistakable even in a small, crowded restaurant.

"You know he called you a stupid American, right?" Luke asked.

**To be continued**


	5. Lapse in Judgment

Noah nearly stood from his chair when he saw the man at the bar. "Luke!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Luke smile slowly. "Same as you—trying to get a decent meal. Although, I think I would have better luck ordering something." He stood and moved over to Noah's table, sitting opposite to him with his hands folded on the table.

Noah couldn't help grin. He was speechless, stunned, as though someone had slapped him just lightly enough to be amused and equally as dumbfounded. He stared at Luke as the man snapped his fingers in the air, beckoning Noah's waiter.

"_Menu, s'il vous plait_?"

The waiter nodded. "_Oui, monsieur_." He disappeared to the bar.

"How did you know I would be here?" Noah asked.

"I didn't," Luke said, sitting back in his chair leisurely. "We just happened to meet again in a city of two million people."

The waiter returned with a small cup of coffee and a menu for Luke. "_Café pour le monsieur et un menu pour toi_." The waiter set Noah's coffee on the table and asked something else to Luke in French. Luke closed the menu. He spoke clearly, stumbling only a little as he spoke to the waiter and pointed to Noah. Noah watched on, impressed at Luke's skill.

"_En outré_," Luke added, shooting Noah a look. "_Veuillez excuser l'Américain stupide_."

"_Oui, monsieur_," the waiter said, taking the menu from Luke. "_Je fais des excuses_." He left with a slight bow and Noah gaped at Luke.

"What did you say to him?"

Luke laughed and shrugged as though he had been speaking French his whole life. "I told him to excuse the stupid American."

Noah chuckled. "Why, because he was a jerk?"

Luke leaned in and lowered his voice. "Okay, he may have been a jerk, but you're the one crawling the streets of Paris without knowing a word of French."

"So it's my fault the French are rude?"

Luke laughed. "They're not _all_ rude!" he said. "You have to understand, the French are very proud of their language. It's off-putting at first, but they mean well."

Noah stared at Luke, studying him intently. "So you're an expert now?" he asked.

"No," he said. Luke smiled and cocked an eyebrow. "Why, do I sound like it?"

The two men burst out laughing, covering their mouths as patrons of the bistro looked their way. Noah recovered from his bought of giggles and leaned over, putting his elbows on the table.

"So what are you doing out at night like this?"

Luke sat back and put his hands behind his head. "It's Friday. Classes don't start until Monday. I have the whole weekend to get settled, buy textbooks . . . see the sights." He stared at Noah as his companion sipped his coffee. "What about you?"

"I, uh, got restless in the hotel. My father's away on business in Châtillon for the evening."

Luke nodded. "And you're, what, wandering aimlessly through the streets?"

"Well, my dad's army cronies offered to babysit me, but I wanted to be alone."

"Oh," Luke said, putting his hands in his lap. "Do you want to be alone now?"

Noah stared at him for a moment, noticing how Luke's hair fell in front of his eyes and offered him a small smile. He shook his head. "No. I'm glad you're here."

Noah watched with satisfaction as a smile curled on Luke's lips. He jumped as the waiter put a plate before him from over his shoulder.

"_Coq au vin_ _pour le monsieur_," the waiter moved to the other side of the table and set another steaming plate on Luke's end. "_Et vous. Bon appetit._" The waiter left with another slight bow and Noah stared down at his food.

"What is this?" he asked.

Luke put the linen cloth from the table in his lap. "_Coq au vin_," he said. "It's rooster."

"You ordered for me?"

"Well, obviously someone had to," Luke laughed.

Noah looked down at his food. "What if I wanted something different? What if I wanted to order for myse—"

"Look, Noah." Luke started, picking up his fork. "You're in a completely different country. You don't speak the language. You're at the mercy of a translator. If I were you, I wouldn't be shy about trying something different." He picked up a diced carrot with his fork and popped it in his mouth. "Who knows? You might like it."

Noah sighed. He stared at Luke as the man ate and picked up his fork. "Alright," he said. He shoveled a bit of the mishmash of food onto his fork. "But I insist on paying."

Luke smiled as he chewed his food. "Of course," he said. "I wouldn't have ordered _coq au vin_ if I thought you weren't going to pay for it."

0000000

After their meal, Noah and Luke walked the streets together, the night having descended upon them like a dark, silk veil. They had stayed in the restaurant well after coffee, chatting about their lives and garnering looks from the diners as they laughed loudly at each other's stories.

They stopped at an intersection and Luke held his hand out in front of Noah as a car came speeding through the street.

"Whoa, easy."

Noah felt that same tingle as Luke touched his arm, a burning, red-hot sensation that stayed with him even after Luke had let go. They crossed the street together and Luke shoved his hands in his coat pocket.

"So you never answered my question," he said.

Noah looked at him. "What question is that?"

"You know, back on the plane? I asked you if you were gay or not and you never answered."

Noah lowered his head and frowned. "Oh," he said.

Luke hesitated, waiting for Noah to say something to interrupt the awful silence between them. "Look," he said. "I get it. What happened between us was . . . well, I don't really know what it was, but . . ."

Noah looked at Luke.

"I mean," Luke continued, his voice lower. "I wouldn't trade whatever it was we had for anything in the world. And I'm sorry if that weirds you out or anything, but—"

"Luke—"

"But I like you, Noah." Luke stopped and turned to his accomplice. Noah blinked at him, seemingly at a loss for words. "I like you a lot."

Noah ignored the people around them as they brushed by them on the sidewalk. "Luke," he said, "whatever happened on the plane—"

Luke shook his head. "No, don't do that. You don't have to try and explain. And hey, maybe it's like I said before—maybe it was just a lapse in judgment for you, I don't know." He swallowed, his face twisted in a combination of hope and worry. "But . . . but if there's the slightest chance that you . . . that maybe you feel the same way, I need to know."

Noah rubbed the back of his neck, a cold sweat forming on his brow. "It's . . . it's complicated. My father thinks that—"

"I'm not asking what your father thinks, Noah. I'm asking what _you_ think."

Noah opened his mouth to speak but found himself at a loss of words. He turned and walked down the sidewalk again, Luke following closely after.

"I don't know what I think!" he exclaimed. He let out a laugh and held up his hands. "This is insane! I barely even know you and you've . . . the second I saw you, it's like . . ."

"What?" Luke asked hurrying to keep up with Noah both in pace and in thought process.

"I don't know, it's like I'm not myself!" Noah turned the corner and stopped at his hotel building, just a few yards away from the entrance. He stood in front of Luke. "I have never, ever, felt this way about . . . about _anyone_. Let alone another guy."

Luke's face softened. "So you do feel something for me?" he asked, nearly breathlessly.

Noah cast his eyes to the pavement, searching for the right answer. He looked up at Luke. "If my father ever found out . . . if I even _suggested_ it, he would disown me."

"And what about the other secret you're keeping? What are you going to do when you graduate from The New School and he finds out you didn't go to Columbia for your business degree?"

Noah made no response. He looked past Luke's head, his lips pressed in a thin line and tears forming at the corners of his sky-blue eyes. He closed his eyes when Luke touched his arm with those magic fingers of his.

"Look," Luke said. "I know you're confused. And I don't know, maybe it turns out you don't want anything to do with me." Luke shook his head and smiled. "But I really, _really_ like you, Noah. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since we first met." He let out a laugh. "It's crazy, I know, but it's true!" His face turned serious again and he inched closer to Noah. "I just need to know, please tell me, Noah, I need to—"

Noah stopped Luke's mouth with his, planting a gentle, almost shy kiss on Luke's lips. He parted slightly and heard Luke sigh, taking that as a sign that he should continue and pressed his lips against the other man's again. Noah gently reached out and put his hand on Luke's cheek, feeling alive and dangerous and scared all at the same time as Luke wrapped an arm around his waist. Noah touched the tip of his tongue to Luke's bottom lip and slowly pulled away, feeling the vibrating energy amongst them spark in between their parting lips like live wires. He stroked the area just below Luke's eye with the pad of his thumb.

Luke let out a long breath and turned his head down towards the sidewalk. "Wow," he said. He looked at Noah again. "Now that's what I call a _huge_ lapse in judgment."

"Ahem!"

Noah pulled away sharply as a voice called out to them. General Conley was walking towards them from the entrance of the hotel, with every swagger of a trained military man.

"General Conley!" Noah exclaimed. He shot a look at Luke's horrified face.

"The Colonel has been asking about you, Mr. Mayer. He arrived about two hours ago."

Noah touched the back pocket of his jeans. "My cell phone, I must have—"

"He's requested an audience with you," the general said.

Noah nodded. "Right. I'm sorry." He turned to Luke, his heart beating a mile a minute. "This is my, uh, friend, Luke—"

"I was just leaving," Luke said, jutting his thumb over his shoulder and walking backwards. "It's my fault he's late, I kept him out, I'm so sorry—"

Noah turned as Luke waked away. "Luke, wait."

"I'll see you later. Sorry again, General . . . whatever." He turned and walked down the sidewalk.

Noah watched him leave for a moment before facing the general again. He felt embarrassed, anxious, terrified beyond all belief that someone his father knew had seen him and Luke together. The general stepped aside with all the aplomb of his basic training and motioned towards the hotel doors.

"You're father is waiting," he said.

Noah swallowed the bile inching up his throat, and slowly followed General Conley into the building.

**To be continued**


	6. Keeping Out of Trouble

**A/N: This chapter doesn't feature Luke, it's mostly just filler for later chapters.**

* * *

Noah and General Conley stood in the elevator together. As they passed the third floor, the General cleared his throat and crossed his hands together at his front. Noah looked at his shoes as they went up past the fifth floor. He pressed the stop button as they reached the seventh floor and looked at the General.

"Are you going to tell my father?"

The General barely shifted and continued looking up at the level indicator as if they hadn't stopped moving. "Tell him what, sir?" he asked.

Noah turned to him. "You know what I mean," he said. "Don't try to be nice, I know you saw Luke and I—"

"I wasn't trying to be nice, sir," General Conley said in a hushed tone. He glanced at Noah, keeping his hands together and shifted his legs farther apart. "What you do in your own time is your business."

Noah blinked. He felt like he hadn't heard the gruff, seemingly straight-laced man correctly. "But you're still going to tell my father, aren't you? That's what army men do, they're brothers, they stick together—"

"Sir," General Conley said, finally turning to Noah. His face had changed somehow in that moment, like he had forgotten all the discipline and rigidity of a formal-ranking officer and became a man who may have had children himself. "It's true, your father and I have a certain amount of camaraderie. But I'm here on business, and part of my business entails keeping you out of trouble during your stay in Paris."

Noah felt his heart seize. A cold sweat burst from his chest and he felt lightheaded just thinking about how, in a few moments, the General was going to tell his father everything he had seen.

"I have a son about your age," the General went on, looking Noah up and down. "Back in Montana. Looks a little like you, too."

Noah swallowed and stared at the burly General with hopeful, pleading eyes.

"I know that if I ever saw him the way I saw you and that other gentleman on the street," General Conley continued, "I'd be stunned."

Noah lowered his eyes, feeling as though the General was only prolonging his suffering, making things worse for him by possibly getting him ready for what his father would most definitely say.

"But I would find a way to accept him," the General said. He smiled when Noah looked at him, the young man's mouth dropping open. "That's right, I'd still love him." His face became serious. "But your father is different, son. You might be his boy, but news like this would . . . well, it would—"

"Destroy him," Noah said.

The General sighed and pressed the stop button again to move the elevator. He straightened and put his hands behind his back, a typical pose for a military man. "I'm not going to tell your father anything, son." He stole a look at Noah. "Like I said, I'm here to keep you out of trouble."

Noah felt his body relax as though his bones were made of liquid. He blew out a sigh of relief and straightened his shirt just as the door to the elevator opened to the eighth floor. "Thank you," he whispered.

The two men stepped out of the elevator with a different air about them, a quiet kind of understanding that Noah was grateful for. They walked down the hall to the Colonel's room and General Conley tapped on the door three times.

"Come in," the voice on the other side called.

The General gave Noah one last cautionary look and opened the door for them. Noah stepped in and the Colonel turned from his place at the window. His father put his hands behind his back and smiled at his son in a way that made Noah feel like a ten-year-old breaking curfew.

"Ah, look who's decided to grace us with his presence."

All at once, Noah stiffened at his father's tone. He mimicked his father by putting his hands behind his back to show respect. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, lowering his head.

"And would you like to tell me why you've decided to come waltzing in here at eleven-thirty at night—no messages, no indication of where you were?"

Noah hesitated, clearing his throat. He glanced at General Conley standing beside him, both men with their hands behind their backs. "I . . . got lost. My cell phone died, I must have forgotten to recharge it since the plane ride—"

"You couldn't have called from a pay phone?" The Colonel asked, stepping closer to Noah with those sharp, accusing eyes. "Taken a cab back to the hotel?"

"I'm sorry, sir, it was very irresponsible of—"

"Permission to speak, sir?" General Conley said.

Noah's father nodded to him. "Granted."

"Sir, I sent Noah off to get a bottle of wine to mark your reunion. I only gave him enough for the gift—I thought it irresponsible to let him out on the streets with too much cash."

"What, and letting him go off by himself was an even better idea?" the Colonel asked, directing his frustration at the General.

The General paused, his eyes shifting slightly within his stone face. "Sir, I . . . had not anticipated he would get lost."

The Colonel turned and threw up his hands with a sigh. "Who in the world am I dealing with tonight?" he cried to himself. He faced the window a moment longer and turned back to Noah with an unexpected grin. "No matter now." He startled the room by putting his hand on Noah's shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Noah."

Noah narrowed his eyebrows as his father laughed and turned away again. "Sir?" he asked, surprised.

"General," Noah's father said.

"Sir?"

"I'm relieving you of your duties tonight. Get some rest."

General Conley nodded and held a hand to his forehead. "Thank you, sir." He saluted Noah's father and the Colonel returned the gesture. The General exited the room and Noah watched him leave.

"Have a seat, Noah," the Colonel offered, motioning towards the breakfast table before them. The Colonel went to the minibar as Noah sat at the table and poured himself a drink.

"You're not mad?" Noah asked.

"Well, of course I'm mad," his father said, sitting next to Noah at the table with a Waterford glass of whiskey in his hand. "You made a foolish decision to go out by yourself tonight."

Noah lowered his eyes and felt himself cloistering up at his father's tone.

"But I'll let you off with a warning tonight. This is the first time we've met in months, and I'd rather not spoil it anymore than it already has been." He took a gulp of whiskey and Noah raised his eyebrows, his gaze cast downward like a dog facing a rolled-up newspaper. "Anyway," the Colonel said, lightening his tone. "I'm glad you're here."

Noah smiled weakly. "It's been a while."

"Yes, far too long," his father agreed. He sat up and leaned closer to Noah. "So tell me about school. How are your classes?"

Noah gulped. "At Columbia?" he asked. Noah shrugged. "Fine, just fine."

Colonel Mayer chuckled. "I know you fought me every step of the way when I wanted you to join the armed forces, but I think this is a nice compromise."

"Compromise?" Noah parroted.

The Colonel took another sip of his drink. "It's not what I had hoped for you, but it's a step up from all those ridiculous dreams about the entertainment industry and whatnot."

Noah's face grew hot and he lowered his gaze as his father laughed. The Colonel slapped Noah on the back and put his hand on his shoulder.

"At least with business," he said, "you'll be doing a man's job."

Noah looked at him, feeling ready to cry. "'A man's job'?" he repeated, tasting the phrase on his tongue and shuddering at the vile flavor.

The Colonel smiled and raised his glass. "I'll drink to that." He downed the last of his whiskey and slammed the glass on the smooth surface of the cherry-oak table. "Well, then. There's plenty of time to talk about all this tomorrow." He stood and Noah followed him. "Why don't we rendezvous tomorrow in the lobby at oh-nine-hundred hours for breakfast?"

"Uh . . . okay."

His father led him to the adjoining door of Noah's own room and opened it for his son. He turned to Noah. "And wear a tie tomorrow. We're Americans in France—let's try to put the best foot forward, okay?"

Noah looked down at his faded blue polo shirt and nodded to his father. "Yes, sir." He said. He walked through the doorway.

"Noah," the Colonel called out.

He turned and waited for his father to speak.

"I'm really glad you're here, son." he said.

Noah pursed his lips and gave his father a nod. "Goodnight, sir."

**To be continued**


	7. A Message

**A/N: So, someone pointed out that a General outranks the Colonel in the army. I thought I had done my homework, but it looks like I got it wrong. Sorry for the embarrassing mistake! From now on, General Conley will be CAPTAIN Conley. Sorry again about the mix-up!**

* * *

The next morning around eight thirty, as Noah was getting out of the shower, his room phone began to ring. He thought it might be his father, checking up on him to make sure he would be downstairs at nine o'clock on the dot, and was surprised when the concierge was on the line.

"_Monsieur_ Mayer?" the male's voice said. "You have a message waiting for you at the front desk."

"Thank you," Noah said. He hung up and rubbed the towel over his wet hair, wondering what the message could have been for.

Noah stumbled out of the elevator at 9:10, fumbling with his lavender tie. He looked around for his father and saw him standing in the lounge by a large vase filled with lilies. The Colonel turned and frowned when he saw his son.

"I guess nine o'clock to you really means 9:10—"

"I'm sorry, sir," Noah said, knotting his tie and closing his coat over it. He glanced at the concierge's desk where his mysterious message was waiting for him.

"I guess you've been away from my influence too long," the Colonel said with a condescending sort of smile. "They must have forgotten to teach you punctuality at that business school of yours."

Noah laughed uneasily and followed his father through the lobby.

"I thought we'd eat here in the hotel," the Colonel said a step ahead of his son.

"Yes, sir," Noah said, glancing over his shoulder at the front desk.

At the table of the hotel restaurant, Noah tapped his foot anxiously and read the same line of his menu over and over, hoping and wishing that the message from the concierge was from Luke. A secret message just for him—it was all so exciting and yet scary as Noah looked at his father's stern face going over the menu.

"What looks good?"

Noah blinked. "Huh?"

"On the menu. What would you like?"

Noah shook his head and closed his menu. "Oh, uh, I haven't decided yet."

His father smiled weakly and sipped the glass of water before him. Silence wedged itself between Noah and his father, the too men clueless of what to say. Colonel Mayer cleared his throat.

"I trust you're doing well in school."

Noah tugged at his collar. "Yeah, it's . . . it's going great."

Colonel Mayer smiled. "You know, if things work out, this could actually be good for you."

Noah looked at his father. "Sir?"

"Yeah, you know—you're learning something valuable. You'll make something of yourself with a business degree. You'll become someone I'll be proud to call my son."

"You're not proud of me now?"

"Oh, Noah!" Colonel Mayer waved him away as if he didn't understand the conversation. "You've got what it takes to be man . . . you just haven't used it yet."

Noah face burned and a twisting feeling of hurt wrung around his heart. He looked at the delicate, fancy table setting just as his father's cell phone began to ring. Colonel Mayer held up a hand.

"Excuse me. This is important." He flipped his phone open and began speaking.

_So what, _I'm_ not important anymore?_ Noah thought bitterly to himself. He watched as his father spoke intently to the other person on the phone. The Colonel flipped the phone shut with a sigh and looked at his son.

"I'm sorry, Noah," he said, "We have to cut this short. I got called for a meeting on the other end of town, they want me there right now for a briefing." Noah's father looked at him with a glimmer of hope in his eye, as if he were asking his son to forgive him and understand. In that moment, Noah felt bad for wanting to get away so eagerly.

He smiled genuinely at his father. "It's okay," he said.

The Colonel nodded and grinned. "Okay, then. I'll make it up, I promise. We'll take the whole day off during the week and tour the city, just you and I."

Noah felt his spirits lifting. "Really?" he asked.

His father stood and patted his arm. "Really."

Noah followed his father out of the restaurant with a smile and a newfound feeling of confidence. "You know," he said, "since you'll be gone for a while, I might step out and see the sights a little."

"Of course," Colonel Mayer said. He turned to his son. "But I insist that Captain Conley escort you."

Noah's eyes dropped and he nodded. "Sure," he said.

The Colonel patted Noah's arm again. "Good boy," he said. "I'll have the Captain down in a moment." He turned and began walking towards the elevators. Noah closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Dad?" he called. The Colonel turned. "It's okay that you have business today. I understand."

The Colonel offered him a hint of a smile. "Thank you, son." He walked away again and Noah watched him for a moment before turning towards the concierge's desk.

"Excuse me?" he asked the man behind the desk.

The concierge looked up at him with a smile. "_Oui, monsieur_? How may I help you?"

"My name is Noah Mayer, I think there's a message here for me."

The concierge's face brightened. "Ah, yes, _monsieur_." He retrieved a small piece of notepaper and handed it to Noah.

Noah eagerly unfolded the card and felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the scrawling letters: _Noah. Jardin des Tuileries, Musee de l'Orangerie_. _Luke_.

Noah looked up and saw Captain Conley looking at him. "Sir," the Captain said, "Your father asked me to escort you today."

"Yeah . . ." Noah read the note over again, a large smile forming on his face. He looked up at the Captain. "Can you do me a favor?"

0000000

Noah's hands sweated as he walked with Captain Conley across the busy street to the garden by the hotel. He felt a lump forming in his throat, wondering if he should have changed into something less formal before leaving. Worst of all, he felt like he was back in junior high, trying desperately to look good in front of people he wanted to impress. They entered the garden and moved down a long path towards a large fountain where people sat around it and children played by the water's edge. Noah was struck by the beauty and pristine of the famous garden, with its trees lined up perfectly and its green lawn meticulously taken care of.

They took a right on the path and walked past gorgeous statues of troubled-looking young women, mythological figures, and romantic partners. Noah shielded his eyes from the sunny day by putting his hand on his forehead in a kind of salute, and saw the museum they were looking for at one end of the path. Noah saw him at once even as tourist groups walked by them, business men on their coffee breaks and women herding their children along. Luke sat outside of the large, stone greenhouse structure like the hero of a movie, lounging on the steps of the museum and reading a book.

Noah smiled when he saw Luke reading intently, but made no move towards him. He watched him for a moment, noticing as the world went by him like he was one of the statues they had passed—something to be admired and mused about.

Noah turned to Captain Conley. "Thanks for doing this," he said.

The Captain nodded. "I'll be back at this spot by four. If you're not here, don't expect me to give your father an excuse."

"I understand," Noah said. "I'll be here."

The Captain gave him one last nod and turned away on his heels. Noah looked at Luke again and noticed how the sun turned his already blond hair even lighter. He found himself wanting to run his fingers through Luke's hair, to feel the texture of it and hear the man's sighs as he caressed him gently . . .

Noah cleared his throat and loosened his tie. He took a confident step forward and swallowed hard as he made the rest of the way to Luke. He stood for a moment in front of the man lying on the steps until he noticed him. Luke looked up from his book and suddenly, as quick as the wind that passed through them, everything seemed right to Noah.

Luke smiled and closed the book. "I was prepared to wait all day for you," he said, standing before Noah.

"I would have hated to keep you waiting." Noah said. He pulled at his collar again, feeling tense all of a sudden now that Luke's smoldering gaze was locked upon him.

Luke raised a playful eyebrow and smiled. "You didn't have to get all dressed up for me," he said.

"Oh," Noah said, looking down at his clothes. "I was supposed to have breakfast with my father. He had to go away on business."

"Until how long?" Luke asked.

Noah smiled. "Long enough." His heart leaped into his throat as he watched Luke's gaze dart from his eyes to his lips and relaxed completely, leaning in as Luke kissed him.

Luke parted and took Noah's hand. "We've got a big day ahead of us," he said.

**To be continued**


	8. Jardin des Tuileries

With Noah's hand in his, Luke led him up the steps of the museum. "Come on," he said. "I want to show you something." They paid admission and stepped into the busy, yet tranquil museum of white floors and delicate ceilings. Tourists snapped photos of themselves in front of the priceless pieces of art, others walked individually, admiring the works at their own leisurely pace. Luke led Noah through an arched doorway to a large, oval white room. The ceiling was a blinding blue-white color, as if the sky had tried to seep in on that warm spring day, and a long oval bench sat in the middle of the room.

Noah stood by Luke and marveled at the continuous painting wrapped around the room, blues and greens bursting out of the canvass and floating seamlessly into the gallery. Noah gaped and looked around.

"Wow," he said.

Luke smiled and walked out ahead of him. "It's Monet's 'Water Lilies.' They put them back up after renovations."

"It's beautiful," Noah breathed, walking along the wall to admire the gorgeous colors. Luke followed a step behind, watching as Noah took in the lovely, overwhelming majesty of the famous painter's masterpiece. "It's like a dream," Noah said.

"Do you like it?" Luke asked

Noah turned to him and smiled. "I love it." He brought his attention back to the painting and continued walking the length of the room.

Luke stopped and stared at Noah, feeling disconnected from everything in that moment, drowning in the blue and greens and wispy motions of the mural around them. "_Je t'aime_," he found himself whispering.

"What?" Noah asked, turning to him.

Luke blinked. "Huh?"

"You said something, what was it?"

Luke shook his head and faked a laugh. "No I didn't."

Noah moved closer to him. "You did, you said _'je t'aime_. What does that mean?"

Luke stared at Noah, letting out a real laugh this time. "You _really_ don't speak French, do you?"

Noah smiled sheepishly. "I thought we already covered that."

Luke hung his head, a small smile still on his lips. "It means, uh . . . it means 'I'm having fun'." He chanced a look at his companion and Noah took his hand.

"I'm having fun, too."

"Good," Luke said. He leaned over and whispered in Noah's ear, "Because we still have a lot to do." He pulled Noah out of the gallery as though whatever they were seeing next would be gone if they didn't get there in time. "Come on!"

They were out the door in a second, running down the pathways and stopping to admire the sculptures and garden flowers. Luke posed with the sculpture heads, trying his best to imitate their serious or comical faces, and soon he had Noah in stitches from laughing. They spent the rest of the morning admiring the place de la Concorde, strolling the sidewalk along the Seine River, and talking about their lives.

"In three seconds, tell me your favorite movie," Noah said as they toured one of the gardens with statues and a hedge maze.

"_Braveheart_."

Noah looked at Luke. "_What_?" he cried.

"It's a guilty pleasure! It's one of those movies that's on TV, like, all the time." Luke smiled as Noah looked at him in disbelief. "Oh come on!" he cried. "The battle scenes were pretty good."

Noah shook his head. "I don't know, Snyder, that might be a deal-breaker."

Luke playfully hit his shoulder. "Alright, Mr. Speilberg—favorite book?"

Noah bit his lip and thought about it. "Uh . . . _The Firm_?" He glanced at Luke to see the man's reaction. Luke pushed him away and laughed. "What?" Noah asked. "It's John Grisham!"

"That's so mainstream!" Luke groaned. "He's good, sure, but it's popcorn literature. You might as well have said Stephen King."

"I _like_ Stephen King!" Noah cried with a laugh.

Luke hit Noah's shoulder with the book he was carrying and his companion laughed, recoiling and jumping away to escape Luke's playful wrath.

"That's it!" Luke yelled, throwing his hands up with a smile. "We're just too different—I don't know how we're going to get past this horrendous road block." He poked Noah in the ribs and his friend leaned back on a nearby tree, laughing.

"Look who's talking, Mr. _Braveheart_!"

Luke pulled on Noah's collar to bring him closer. "Well then," he said, his voice low and husky. "I guess that makes us even." He gave Luke a quick, moist peck on the mouth.

Noah smiled with his teeth and took Luke's hand. "Come on," he said, motioning his head towards the path.

They walked hand-in-hand to the main entrance where the crowd had grown bigger near the fountain, throngs of children chasing pigeons on the court and office workers taking their lunch break on benches. Noah watched as couples kissed under trees, groups of friends laughing together with large sunglasses to block out the warm Parisian sun. He could smell the flowers from the neighboring gardens and soaked in the atmosphere, feeling as though he were in some sort of heaven where everyone was happy and even the typical office drudge had something to smile about.

"What should we do now?" Luke asked.

Noah smiled and looked at the large fountain a few yards away from them. He took off his jacket and handed it to Luke. "Hold this, please," he said. He rolled up the sleeves of his white, button-down shirt and loosened his tie.

"What are you doing?" Luke asked.

Noah raised an unusually mischievous eyebrow and smiled at Luke. He turned and began running down the court towards the fountain. Luke watched with curiosity for a moment until he realized what Noah was about to do.

"Noah, wait!" he called, running after him.

Noah ran towards an empty space of the fountain, where no one was sitting on or around the ledge, and jumped in the water without so much as a cry. A woman shrieked nearby and a group of teenagers began laughing as Noah surfaced from the shallow pool. Luke stood by the edge as people began staring and laughing at the man in the water.

"Oh my God, that's cold!" Noah cried with a laugh, sitting on his knees to submerge himself halfway in the water.

"What in God's name are you doing?" Luke asked.

"I'm cooling off!" Noah said. He ran his fingers through his hair to shake the water out.

"You better get out before a cop comes," Luke said.

Noah smiled as he sat in the water. He ignored the neighboring stares and finger-pointing, raised that mischievous eyebrow again and put his hand up out of the water.

"What are you doing?" Luke asked. He studied Noah's smile and shook his head. "Don't you _dare_!"

Noah swiped his hand across the water and splashed Luke with a laugh. Luke put Noah's coat in front of himself to guard from the water and subsequently threw it on the ground.

"That's it," he said, stepping on the fountain's edge. "You're dead!" He jumped in, his wave hitting Noah. Luke grabbed his companion's shoulders and forced him under the water. Noah resurfaced and splashed Luke, both of them laughing over the sounds of their water fight and the amused voices around them.

"God, you were right!" Luke exclaimed, shivering. "It's freezing!"

Noah looked through the crowd and saw two uniformed men making their way towards the fountain. "Police," he said.

Luke looked at him. "What?"

Noah stood and helped Luke to his feet. "It's the police, we gotta run!"

"Relax," Luke said, stepping out of the fountain. "They won't do anything."

"Run!" Noah cried, oblivious to Luke's casual tone.

Luke picked up Noah's jacket and followed him through the courtyard. People around them began to laugh and whisper to each other as the boys sprinted through the busy walkway.

Luke looked over his shoulder to see one policeman steadily chasing them.

"_Arrêt_!" the officer cried out.

"Go, go!" Luke said, pushing Noah to go faster. They ran into one of the botanical gardens and hid behind a bush. The policeman ran the other way, slowing down when he realized he had lost them. Luke and Noah sat in the grass and suppressed their laughter as the policeman headed back to his partner by the entrance.

When Noah was sure the officer was gone, he put his hand over his mouth and let out a loud snort. Luke threw his head back and laughed.

"Did you see his face?" Luke asked, gasping for air.

"I thought he was going to get us for a second there!"

"I can't believe you jumped in the fountain in the first place!" Luke said, pushing Noah's shoulder. "What were you thinking, anyway?"

Noah shook his head. "I don't know," he said with a bewildered grin. "But I like it." He looked at Luke.

"I like it, too." Luke said. He looked a Noah longingly, his eyes the color of Monet's green lilies—wishing, hoping, waiting for something Noah couldn't quite decipher.

Noah laughed and patted Luke's head. "Look at your hair, it's a mess." He ran his fingers through Luke's wet mop, unknowingly causing something to burst in his companion's heart and flutter around like thousands of tiny butterflies.

"This has been a good day," Noah said.

Luke smile and tipped his head towards him. "Well, it's not over yet."

**To be continued**


	9. Making a Memory

**A/N: Sorry this one's so short. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!**

* * *

Sometime after lunch, Luke and Noah lounged in one of the gardens lawns, a square little piece of land surrounded by trees and flowers, statues hiding in the thicket and tourists occasionally walking by. Their clothes were still a little wet from when they had jumped in the fountain, but the warm May weather soon dried them almost completely. Luke lay on his side with his head resting on his hand, elbow firmly placed on the ground. He was reading the book he had brought. Noah lay on his back, his hands under his head and his eyes closed. He basked in the warmth of the spring sun and sighed, feeling relaxed and at ease with the world.

"Where did you come from?" Noah asked, putting one hand over his stomach.

Luke flipped a page in his book. "A little town called Oakdale in Illinois."

Noah turned over on his stomach and rested his head on his crossed arms. He looked at Luke. "No, I mean . . . how did we get here? A few days ago, I never would have looked at a guy the way I—" He stopped and blushed, feeling embarrassed to say how he felt. "They way I look at you," he said.

Luke stared at him and closed his book. A small smile curled the end of his lips and he scooted closer to Noah. "It must be my robust magnetism," he said, grinning.

Noah laughed and reached out to Luke, brushing his hair away from his eyes. "I'm serious," he said. "I mean, what if . . ." he paused, frowning. "What if all of this is some kind of a dream?"

Luke shook his head. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, what if I go back to New York and this feeling goes away? What if I go back and the spell is broken?"

Luke raised his head to the sky, trying to follow Noah's train of thought. "So you're worried this feeling you have—whatever it is you feel for me—is only temporary?"

Noah took his hand. "I know that sounds awful. It's just that, all of this is happening so fast, I don't really know what to think—"

"Are you happy?" Luke asked.

"What?"

"Are you happy?" he repeated.

Noah smiled. "Yes. I've never been more happy in my whole life."

"Well then . . . maybe we should just enjoy it right now, and then when you leave," Luke paused, sighing, "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Noah grimaced. "You make it sound so final, so . . . bittersweet."

Luke stared at Noah for a moment, then took his hand again. "Close your eyes," he said.

Noah looked at him curiously. "Why?" he asked.

"Just do it," Luke said. He waited until Noah's ocean blue eyes were closed and spoke. "Now. Listen to the sounds around you. What do you hear?"

Noah squinted. "I can hear . . . you're voice." He paused. "The wind in the trees. I can hear people talking and cars on the street."

"Good. Now describe what you smell."

Noah smiled slightly. "I can smell the grass. I can smell the roses from the garden next to us. The air . . . it's sweet. And I can still smell your aftershave, even after our little swim."

Luke chuckled. "Excellent. Now take everything you hear, everything you smell, everything you taste and feel and see . . ." He stopped and watched as Noah's eyes darted back and forth behind their lids, a sort of calmness coming over him as his chest heaved up and down slowly. "Now open your eyes."

Noah did as he was instructed and looked directly at Luke.

"There," Luke said, "we just made a memory for you." He searched Noah's face, his eyes gazing longingly at Noah's lips. "So no matter what," he said in a hushed, breathy tone, "no matter what happens, you'll always have this moment—this exact moment that's yours to look back on."

Noah made no gesture to agree with Luke. His face was dreamy, wandering, determined to make a move and follow an impulse his body hadn't been able to control these past two days. He leaned over and put his hand on the side of Luke's face, brushing his thumb over his brow before moving in and kissing his lips. Luke reciprocated by parting his mouth and taking Luke's bottom lip between his teeth, caressing his tongue over Noah's moist lip.

Noah parted, moving his hand down to Luke's neck. "This has been the best day of my life," he said.

Luke took Noah's hand from his neck and kissed his palm. "_Je t'aime, mon cheri_."

Noah leaned in and kissed him again, their lips lingering as a cool wind swept through the trees and carried the sweet smell of roses in the air. The patrons of the park walked by casually, paying no mind to the two men as they kissed on a warm patch of grass. Noah felt his heart lift out of his body like a leaf from a tree, soaring above the garden in an invisible updraft. He breathed in as he kissed Luke, taking in a spark of life that had been missing from him before, letting it replace the area in his chest where his heart was no longer his anymore.

0000000

That night, Noah tossed and turned in his bed at the hotel. He recalled in his sleepless state how he had parted ways with Luke at exactly 4 o'clock that afternoon, how it hurt to have to tell him that he probably wouldn't have been able to see him the next day. He turned on his side, hugging the pillow next to him as he remembered the look on Luke's face as they separated—disappointed but understanding, a look that made Noah feel guilty for having to leave him.

Noah tossed in bed again and tried to think about the water lilies in the museum, how beautiful they were and how they had set the tone for the most perfect day of his life. Water lilies made him think of green-blue, made him think of Luke's eyes, made him think of kissing him, made him turn over again and out the pillow over his head to block out the aching feeling of being apart from him.

Noah threw the covers off of himself and stepped out of bed. He walked to the bathroom and winced at the cold feeling of the tiles on his bare feet. He ran the faucet and splashed water on his face. He rubbed his chin and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Noah closed his eyes and thought about the way the wind moved through the trees as he and Luke had lain in the grass, how the air had smelled sweet and fresh even in the middle of a crowded city. He thought about the light in Luke's eyes, the nearly-translucent shade of sea foam green they had turned when he looked into the sky and the sun hit them. He smiled and touched his lips, trying to feel the warmth of Luke's linger kiss.

Noah savored the memory, wrapping it around himself like a warm blanket, and went back to bed for a night of uninterrupted dreams.

**To be continued**


	10. The Pickpocket

That afternoon, the Sunday after Noah's day with Luke, Noah found himself in the busy side streets along Rue des Rosiers, a street in the shopping district of Saint Ouen, a suburb of Paris. He had taken the metro with his father in the morning, and now that it was after noon, the crowds began to gather in the marketplace, overflowing with tourists and shopkeepers selling antiques and fine jewelry.

Noah took his phone out of his back pocket as it beeped, indicating a text message.

"Who keeps calling you?" his father asked as he looked over his shoulder at his son.

Noah read the message: **where r u?** It was from Luke. "No one," Noah said. He quickly typed the name of the street they were on and put his phone away. "Just a friend from school."

The Colonel looked over at Noah as he walked ahead of him, an unusually sly grin on the old man's face. "Ahh, I see. A girl, perhaps?"

His son pursed his lips, the nodded. "Uh, yeah. Just this girl I study with sometimes." He saw this as an opportunity and put his hand on his father's arm, forcing him to stop. "In fact," he said over the noise of the crowd, "I told her I'd bring him something back from Paris. Do you mind if we stay along this street for a while?"

The Colonel turned to his son and smiled. "Of course, if it's for a girl." He laughed and patted Noah's shoulder. "You should have told me, Noah. I'd like to meet her when we go back to New York."

Noah gave him a fake smile. "Oh . . . so would I." His phone beeped again and Luke's message popped up: **which store?**

The Colonel watched Noah read the message, his smile never wavering, the look of a man who was finally proud of someone who had disappointed him too many times in the past. "Well, look—you take your time out here. I'm going into this store to see if I can get a decent watch for under a thousand dollars." The Colonel laughed and Noah smiled weakly at his joke.

"I'll just be out here," he said. He waited until his father was in the store and responded to Luke's message, ignoring the throng of people pushing past him on the cool spring day.

**Belles Antiquités.** Noah typed. **How long?** He waited a moment, nearly falling when a man from behind bumped into him and rushed off. "Hey!" Noah cried. The man had already disappeared into the crowd.

**20 minutes.** Luke typed back.

Noah frowned. It was only around one o'clock but already the crowds were surging and Noah knew his father would be getting restless to go back to the hotel. **Too long,** he typed. **Not enough time**.

Noah waited again, looking out amongst the crowd of people buying and selling along the street. His cell phone beeped. **10 minutes**. Luke typed. **Distract him**. Noah frowned again and flipped his phone shut with a sigh. He wondered if it would have just been easier to meet up with Luke near the hotel when they got back. He put his phone in his back pocket and froze when he didn't feel his wallet in his denims. He looked around frantically and searched all the pockets on his jeans, looking out at the crowd again and wondering if a pickpocket had stolen it. His heart raced, his jaw clenched shut, a sickly feeling grew in his stomach—

"Excuse me, _monsieur_," a man from behind him said, "is this yours?"

Noah turned and faced an older man, maybe five to seven years his senior, with a goatee and slicked-back hair. He wore a yellow suit with a blue tie, a gold ring on his pinky finger and a devilish smile radiant enough to make his own mother smile. He held Noah's wallet in his hand, the flap flipped open to reveal Noah's driver's license.

"Yes," Noah said, relieved. He took his wallet from the man's hand. "Thank you."

"But of course," the man said. He rubbed his thumb over his goatee and smiled, looking Noah up and down. "You should be more careful, _mon petit chou_. There are thieves lurking everywhere in the market."

Noah looked at him for a moment, then put his wallet away and nodded. "Yeah, I'll try to remember that." He looked through to store window to see if he could spot his father, and rolled his eyes when the man spoke again.

"My name is Georges Benoit," he said, extending his hand.

Noah sighed and shook it. "I'm Noah," he said.

Georges' face brightened. "Ah, yes. The prophet who saved his family from God's Deluge."

Noah put his hands in his pockets and kept a watchful eye on the store window. "Yup," he said.

"You are American," Georges said, leaning in to Noah with an amused grin.

"How'd you guess?" Noah said flatly.

Georges shrugged as though he were a magician being asked the secret of his trick. "You have a beautiful, white smile. Many Americans have beautiful smiles."

Noah laughed and shook his head, wondering if this man was for real. "Thank you, that's very kind of you to say."

Georges ran a hand through his greased-back hair. "You look well-to-do. May I ask which hotel you are staying at?"

Noah looked at him suspiciously. Before he could open his mouth to tell him how uncomfortable he felt, his father came from the store and interjected them.

"Noah, what's going on?" the Colonel asked.

George smiled and opened his arms. "Aha! Noah did not tell me he had a handsome older brother."

Noah let out a laugh and turned his head away. He dared not look his father in the eyes, for fear of laughing even louder at the Colonel's bewildered expression.

"Who is this man, Noah?" the Colonel asked sternly.

"Ah, yes," George said, "how rude, please let me introduce myself—"

"That's not necessary," the Colonel said.

"I dropped my wallet," Noah said to his father. "He picked it up for me."

"Yes," Georges said, shaking his head. "You're son is very handsome, but very clumsy, I am afraid. A better thief would have been more subtle at stealing my heart."

Noah threw his head back and laughed at the man's ridiculous attempt to flirt with him, in front of his own father, nonetheless. He doubled over and held his stomach, weak from laughing so hard. He put a hand over his mouth, but by then it was too late, the Colonel was already upset.

"Noah, stop that!" he cried.

Noah tried to gain his composure and stood straight, chuckling slightly as he looked at the silly Frenchman in a yellow suit. Colonel Mayer turned to Georges and pointed to him. "I don't know who you think you are," he said, "but I think you had better leave."

Georges held up his hands and gave him an aw-golly frown. "Me, _monsieur_? What is the problem?"

Noah opened his mouth to ask the gentleman more politely to leave again, but his father interrupted his attempts.

"_You_ are my problem!" the Colonel cried. He looked at Georges as if he were carrying some sort of infectious disease. "You people disgust me!"

"Dad, calm down," Noah said, looking around, "people are staring."

George's face dropped and he became sincere. "I am sorry I have given you a bad impression, _monsieur_," he said. "But I assure you, the French are good people."

"Not the French, you idiot!" the Colonel yelled, waving his arm. Both Noah and Georges stepped back from his wrath. Noah's father pointed to Georges again. "I'm talking about your _kind_! You flirt with every guy as if they're just like you—you try to get in their pants like some sort of pervert!"

"_Monsiuer_, I—"

"Dad, what are you talking about?" Noah asked.

The Colonel turned to his son, his face red and livid and scary enough to make Noah recoil. "Don't you see, son?" he asked. "This man was hitting on you . . . he's nothing but a faggot!"

Noah winced at the word, the tone of his father's voice. He suddenly felt afraid to be there, that if he stayed long enough, his father would be able to see right through him and beat him right then and there in the streets.

Georges put his hand up and laughed. "Typical stupid American," he said. "You think the world revolves around your ideas. You are a . . ." he paused. "What is the word? Ah, yes!" He pointed to the Colonel. "You are a bigot!" Georges clapped his hands and laughed. "Say what you will, _monsieur_, but here in France, it is you who are the disgusting one."

Determined to have the last word, Georges turned on his heels and walked in the other direction. Noah watched him go, admiring him slightly while still cautious of his father's wrath.

"Get back here!" The Colonel shouted after him. "I'm not through talking to you!"

Noah reached in his back pocket and took out his wallet with his cell phone. He punched in Luke's number to text him. **Trouble. Hotel, 1 hr. **He put his phone away andlooked through his wallet.

"Oh my God," he said to himself. "I had at least thirty euros in here!" He brushed past his father and called out to Georges. "Hey!" he cried. He ran down the street, pushing past the crowd of people around him.

"Noah, come back!" is father yelled after him.

Noah ignored his father and followed George's unavoidable yellow suit. Georges looked over his shoulder and began to run after he saw Noah chasing him. He led him to a corner of the street and pushed a rack of clothes over from a woman's kiosk of goods. Noah tripped over the pile and fell hard onto the cracked cement of the sidewalk. He felt a stinging pain on the surface of his elbow and rolled over to his side, watching out of the corner of his eye as George got away in the thick of the crowd.

Colonel Mayer rushed to his side and helped Noah to his feet. "Are you alright?" the Colonel asked. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Noah said, brushing himself off. The woman at the kiosk began yelling at them and Noah helped put the clothes back on the rack. "Sorry," he said to her. "I'm sorry." He handed her six euros as a gesture of forgiveness and limped away.

"Noah—"

He put his hand up as he walked away from his father. "Can we just go, please? Can we just go back to the hotel?"

The Colonel took Noah's arm tightly and whipped him around. "Don't you _ever_ walk away from me like that," he said in a stern tone. He lowered his voice. "I don't ever want you talking to people like him again, do you understand me?" The Colonel studied Noah's face to make sure he knew what he was talking about. "People like him are sick, they need help. Fags like him are only after one thing."

Noah winced again at the word, feeling physically ill at his father's voice. He stared him square in the eye, knowing that there was only one thing he could say that would make him drop the subject and let them move on.

"Yes, sir," he said.

0000000

Luke sat back in his chair and looked at Noah from across the café table. They were seated outside, the four o'clock sun hazy in an increasingly overcast sky. Noah had told his father he was going to get a cup of coffee alone to clear his head after the incident at the market, and when the Colonel expressed interest in taking a nap, Noah thought it was perfect opportunity to see Luke again.

"First he hits on you," Luke said, "then he _steals_ from you?"

Noah sipped his cappuccino. "To be fair," he said, "I'm pretty sure he stole from me first when he gave me back my wallet. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the pickpocket he told me to look out for."

Luke laughed and shook his head.

"It's not funny," Noah said.

"You're right, it's not," Luke said with a chuckle, "I mean, you'd think a Frenchman would have a better pick-up line than '_mon petit chou'_—which, by the way, means 'my little cabbage'."

Noah laughed and put his elbows on the table. He drew in a breath and held his arm at the spot where he had scratched his skin during his fall in the market. He rolled up the sleeve of his sweater to reveal a red mark the size of a quarter dotted with dried blood.

"Here, let me help you." Luke inched his chair over to Noah's side and dipped a linen napkin in his water glass. He put it on Noah's cut and his companion pulled away. "Hold still," he said. He dabbed the wet cloth on Noah skin and blew a cool breath on the area. Luke looked up at Noah and saw that the man was staring at him tenderly. "Better?" Luke asked.

Noah nodded and smiled. "Much."

Luke put the cloth down and kissed the other side of Noah's arm. "There you are, _mon petit chou_."

Noah chuckled. He thought to himself as Luke moved his chair back to his original spot. "It was terrible," Noah said. He looked at Luke. "My father hated him. You should have seen his face, he wanted to kill him. All for being . . . all because he . . ."

Luke leaned over the small table and put his hand on Noah's cheek. "Hey," he said, "he won't be like that with you."

Noah shook his head. "You didn't see his face. He couldn't have cared less that Georges was a thief—all he cared about was the fact that Georges happened to like men."

Luke stroked his cheek and took Noah's hand. "Maybe he doesn't like it now, but give it some time. Once you tell him, he's bound to understand."

Noah smiled weakly and brushed his thumb over Luke's knuckles. "I wish I had your optimism."

"I'd like to think of it more as . . . blind faith." He winked at Noah and they both laughed. Noah squeezed his hand, reveling in their time together and forgetting everything the Colonel had to say about such things.

"Anyway," Noah said, taking a drink of his cappuccino, "I have good news."

Luke's face brightened and he rested his elbows on the table, leaning in. "Does it involve me?"

Noah nodded. "It might. My father will be in Niece on business all day tomorrow."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "All day?" he asked with a smile.

Noah nodded. "_All day_."

Luke put a finger to his lip and pretended to think. "Hmm," he said, "I wonder what we should do in that time."

"I can think of a few things," Noah said. "What time do your classes end?"

"Two o'clock."

"Then how about we meet here at two thirty?"

Luke sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "And maybe I'll have a surprise for you," he said.

Noah raised his eyebrows, nodding. "I see your surprise and I raise you a romantic picnic in the park."

Luke held out his hand. "Deal," he said.

Noah shook it. "Deal."

**To be continued**


	11. Love and Paris

Noah awoke the next morning with a renewed sense of purpose. It was still four-and-a-half hours until he would meet with Luke at the café they had been in last evening, but he counted down the minutes, playing his own version of what would happen that day through his head. He imagined them strolling the streets hand-in-hand as though they had nothing to hide from anyone. He imagined a picnic on a perfect spot of grass in a park surrounded by roses and nice weather. Most of all, he imagined Luke's lips on his—warm and wet with the slightest aftertaste of cinnamon.

Noah stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry. He wrapped the fluffy white towel around his waist and cleared the fog away from the mirror to shave. He nicked himself imagining what Luke might be wearing today (stripes or solids? The man was like a rack of pool balls). Once dry, dressed, and only partially mutilated by his distracted shave, Noah headed down to the lobby with a spring in his step and gave the concierge a nod. He stepped outside and took a breath, absorbing the energy of the city.

Noah looked at his watch and decided to walk around a bit. He passed busy restaurants and small, fashionable boutiques. He smiled and nodded at friendly passer-bys and all the while tried to guess what Luke's surprise was going to be.

Just after one, he stopped at the café he was meant to meet Luke in and ordered a latte. While waiting in line, Noah turned his head to a young woman crying at the table behind him. He ordered his drink and sat down at a table across from her. He flipped through a nearby magazine, pretending to know what the French words were reporting, and occasionally glanced up at the young woman in boots and a plunging neckline. She dabbed her eyes with a napkin, mascara running down her thin face and high cheekbones. The waiter came by and gave Noah his order. He thanked him and stirred his drink, watching as the woman blew her nose.

When curiosity got the best of Noah, he stood with his latte and hovered over her table. "Care for some company?" he asked. The woman blinked at him as she held a tissue close to her nose and Noah suddenly felt like an idiot for thinking this French woman would know what he was saying. "I'm sorry," he said. "Do you speaking English?"

She nodded and lowered her tissue. "Oh, yes," she said in a thick French accent. The woman sniffled and straightened in her chair. "I'm sorry, please sit down."

Noah sat and put his latte on the table. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I just . . . I saw you crying, and I was worried."

The woman laughed through her tears. "_Merci_, you are very kind." She held out a thin, frail hand with large metal bracelets clanging on her wrist. "I am Sofia."

"Noah," he said, taking her hand.

"_Bonjour_, Noah." Sofia blew her nose and wiped the mascara from under her large, brown eyes. "I must look like a, uh . . . a crazy person, sitting and crying to myself." She forced an amiable smile

Noah shook his head. "Not at all." He paused and cleared his throat. "If you want me to leave—"

"No, please stay," Sofia said, extending a hand to him. "It is very nice of you to be concerned. What part of America are you from?" she asked.

"Right now, I live in New York."

Sofia smiled genuinely. "I have yet to go. It is beautiful, no?"

Noah shrugged. "Not quite as romantic as Paris, but maybe that's just because I haven't been mugged enough over here."

Sofia let out a light, airy laugh. "I am glad you like my city," she said. She rummaged in her purse and took out a cigarette and lighter. "_Pardon_," she said, lighting up.

"So, if I may ask . . . why _were_ you crying?" Noah asked.

Sofia blew out a puff of smoke away from Noah's general direction and picked a bit of tobacco from her full, ruby-red lips. She sniffled the last of her tears away. "I was crying for my mother."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Noah said. "Did she pass away?"

Sofia nodded and took a drag. "_Oui_, three years ago. My father just told me he is marrying again."

"Do you like her?"

Sofia frowned. "Bah, I hate her. She is a stupid cow and she thinks I am too skinny." Sofia muttered something in French, nasty words, Noah assumed, and she looked at him from across the table. "Oh, please excuse me, Noah, I am being very bad."

Noah smiled. "It's okay," he said. "I understand terrible parents."

Sofia took another drag and giggled. "So what brings you to Paris, _mon ami_?"

"I'm visiting my father. He's a Colonel in the army, he's here on business."

"_Magnifique_, my father is also in the army!" Sofia said.

"No kidding?" Noah said with a grin. "Small world."

"And you are enjoying your stay?" Sofia asked, tapping her ashes in the nearby tray.

"It's wonderful."

Sofia smiled. "You are having a romance, I can see."

Noah laughed. "How do you know?"

"It is in your eyes," she said, taking a puff on her cigarette. "When you live in the city of love, it is easy to see who is smitten." Sofia blew out smoke and wiggled her thin eyebrows. "What is her name?" she asked.

Noah felt his face become red. He leaned in closer, saying in a hushed tone, "_His_ name is Luke."

Sofia's eyes widened. "Ah, _un garcon_! _Très bon, mon ami_. He is cute, no?"

Noah chuckled and nodded sheepishly. "Very handsome."

"What is he like?" Sofia asked, moving to the edge of her seat. She perched the cigarette on the ashtray and folded her hands under her chin, her elbows resting on the table.

Noah stared down at the table with a smile, thinking about Luke. "He's . . . very kind, very sweet. He's so smart, too, we talk about everything." Noah paused and looked at Sofia. "And when I'm with him everything else just kind of . . . falls away. I can be myself around him."

Sofia stared at him, lost in his reminiscence and probably trying to imagine what Luke looked like. "And you love him?" she asked.

Noah sighed. "_Love_." He rubbed the back of his neck. "That's a heavy word. I've only known him three days."

Sofia shrugged and stubbed her cigarette out. "Sometimes that is all it takes, _mon ami_."

"Yeah, but," Noah shook his head, "it's complicated."

"Perhaps you are making it _too_ complicated. What does your heart say?"

Noah hesitated, watching as the used cigarette in the ashtray before him smothered out, leaving a winding, twisted trail of smoke in the air.

"Noah?"

He looked up at the voice calling to him and saw Luke standing over him. He stood and smiled. "Hey," he said.

"My class got out early," Luke said, giving Noah a peck on the cheek. He looked down at Sofia as she sat at the table. "Who's this?" he asked.

"This is Sofia," Noah said, motioning towards her. "Sofia, this is Luke."

Sofia stood and took Luke's hand in hers. "_Enchanté_." She looked Luke up and down and smiled at Noah. "You were right, he _is_ very handsome." Sofia winked at Luke and gathered her purse. "Thank you so much for sitting with me, Noah. I am sorry I was a terrible bore."

Noah shook his head. "You weren't. It was great meeting you. And don't worry about your step-mother."

"_Soon-to-be_ step-mother," Sofia said, raising a finger.

"Right," Noah said with a laugh.

"_Au revoir, mon ami_." She blew the boys a kiss and exited the café with all the pomp and show of a runway model.

Noah turned to Luke and gave him a long kiss on the cheek. "So what's the surprise?" he whispered in his ear.

"If I told you," Luke whispered back, "it wouldn't be a surprise."

0000000

They spent the afternoon visiting all the tourist traps Noah had yet to see—the Notre Dame cathedral, the Arc de Triumph, the boats along the Sein—each attraction leaving Noah guessing as to what Luke's surprise was.

Just after three in the afternoon, the boy's bought cheese and bread at a nearby delicatessen and rented a blanket in the park. They found a shady area under an oak tree and set up lunch, displaying fruit and cider and French chocolates. They lounged on their little spot on the hill, watching people throw Frisbees and couples snuggle together on sidewalk benches.

"Here," Noah said, extending a finger covered in chocolate, "try this."

Luke smiled and took Noah's finger in his mouth. He licked the chocolate clean, slowly releasing Noah's finger with his eyebrow raised. "Delicious," he said.

Noah laughed. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"_Me_?" Luke cried. "You're the one asking me to lick chocolate off of your body!"

Noah laughed again, lying back on the blanket with his face towards the sun. He put his arm over his eyes and sighed greatly.

"What are you thinking?" Luke asked, lying on his side.

"I'm still wondering what your surprise is," Noah said with his arm still over his eyes.

"It's too early for that," Luke whispered into Noah's ear. He sat back and popped a grape into his mouth.

Noah took his arm away from his face and looked at Luke, squinting from the sun. "Luke?" he asked. "How did you tell your parents that you were . . . well, you know?"

Luke looked at him and smiled. "Gay?" He rolled over onto his stomach and laid on Noah's, chest putting his hand on his companion's belly. "It was hard. I tried to hide it for a long time, but one day it got to the breaking point and I just sort of . . . let it out."

"How did they respond?" Noah asked, running his fingers through Luke's hair.

"Well, my dad was more understanding about it, actually. My mom freaked out at first, she even wanted to send me to some camp that would make me straight . . . but in the end, they eventually understood and now they're okay with it."

Noah paused, moving his fingers down to stroke Luke's neck. "Were you scared?" he asked.

Luke sighed. "I was terrified," he said. "It's scary to find out that the only way you can be yourself is to be something other people might hate."

Noah considered Luke's words, let them sink in like a sponge absorbing water, and when the reality of what he was saying finally caught up to him, Noah put his other hand over his eyes and squeezed them shut tightly. Luke raised his head from Noah's chest and looked at him.

"Hey," he said softly, "are you okay?"

Noah sniffed and fought the tears welling in his eyes. "I don't want him to hate me," he said in a shaking voice.

Luke sat up and looked Noah over. "What?"

Noah wiped at the moisture under his eyes and tried vainly to control his emotions, but the concerned look on Luke's face was enough to break the dam and cause him to lose it. "He'll hate me," Noah whispered.

Luke took Noah's face in his hands. "No, he won't."

"Yes he will!" Noah cried. "He'll hate me! He'll send me away, he'll take me out of school, he'll—"

"He can't do that," Luke said calmly, trying to get Noah to listen.

"You don't know my father!" Noah said, pushing Luke's hands away from his face. "He already thinks I'm nothing, it'll destroy him when he finds out his only son his gay!" Noah sobbed and wiped his eyes. "I'm nothing, I'm shit—"

Luke got to his knees and pulled Noah in for a swift embrace. He held him tightly as Noah cried into his shoulder, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words in his ear. He rubbed Noah's back and let his lover's tears soak through his shirt, tiny droplets of pain Luke was helpless to stop. He took Noah's head in his hands again and forced him to look in his eyes.

"Listen to me," Luke said. "You are _not_ nothing. You are a kind—" he kissed Noah's tear-stained cheek "wonderful—" moved his lips to Noah's brow "talented person." He kissed his warm forehead and wiped his tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "And I am crazy about you."

Noah smiled weakly at Luke, still sniffling from his tears.

"And if your father is too closed-minded to see that someone cares about you so much," Luke said, "then he doesn't matter."

Noah swallowed hard and shook his head. "I'm scared," he said.

Luke smiled weakly. "I know you are." He caressed his face. "But no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

Noah looked at Luke, all of his hope, all of his pain, all of his fear concentrated in the swirling ocean of his eyes. He pulled Luke in closely and hugged his tightly, kissing his neck. "Thank you," he whispered.

Luke smiled. "_Oui, mon coeur_."

0000000

After a day of sight-seeing, picnicking in the park, and tearful confessions in the park, Noah found himself walking along the street with Luke, holding his hand and occasionally brushing his fingers along his back as they casually glanced in store windows and time-worn Parisian alleys. At around six-thirty, when the sun was just beginning to set and the streetlamps flared on, Luke stopped Noah on the sidewalk and told him to close his eyes.

"What's this?" Noah asked.

"It's part of your surprise," Luke said, "now close your eyes."

Noah did as he was instructed and was surprised when Luke put a silk cloth over his eyes. "You've been carrying this around in your back pocket all day?" Noah asked with a laugh as Luke blindfolded him.

"I wanted to be prepared," he said, tightening the scarf. "Ready?" Luke asked.

Noah nodded.

"No peeking." Luke hailed a taxi on the street and led a bumbling Noah into the car. They drove for what felt like an hour, but was probably only about ten minutes with Noah blindfolded, and came to a stop. Noah heard Luke pay the driver and stumbled out of the cab as Luke tried to help him.

"Watch your step," Luke said, leading him onto the curb.

"Where are we? Can I take this off yet—?"

Luke slapped Noah's hand away as he tried to pull the scarf up and took his hand to lead him up the sidewalk. "We're not there yet," he said.

Noah felt himself being led slowly down a path and nearly fell to the ground as his feet stepped on grass.

"Careful," Luke said, putting his hand on his back and helping him back to his feet.

"Where are we?" Noah cried, climbing the grass hill they were on like an infant learning to walk.

Luke walked in front of him and held onto his hands, guiding him to the top of the hill until the slope smooth off. "Okay," Luke said, moving around Luke. "On the count of three." He began removing Noah's blindfold. "One . . . two . . . three!"

Luke took the scarf away and Noah blinked until his eyes adjusted to where they were. He looked out over a grassy park filled with people sitting on blankets and chairs. He smiled widely when he saw a large screen set up near a building and a wall of trees. Noah turned to Luke.

"We're at the Parc de la Villette," Luke said. "They're showing _Casablanca_."

Noah laughed and held onto Luke's arms. "It's my—"

"Favorite movie," Luke finished. "I know."

"I didn't think you remembered."

Luke chuckled and shook his head at such a ridiculous thought. "Of course I remember. But don't thank me for the movie, that was coincidence, I promise."

"Thank you," Noah said. He leaned in and kissed Luke, wrapping his arms around his waist to pull him in closer. They parted lips and Noah touched his forehead to Luke's.

"So where should we sit?" Luke asked, looking up at Noah.

His companion looked at the ground and then at the large white screen where all the couples were seated in front of. "This is as good a place as any," Noah said.

They sat down in the place they were standing and soon the movie started. Luke, who had never seen the movie before (much to Noah's surprise), marveled at Ingrid Bergman's beauty, sighed when Sam played "As Time Goes By" on the piano, cheered when Humphrey Bogart shot the Nazi, Strasser, and the airport, and when Bogey told Ingrid that they'd always have Paris, Luke turned to Noah and kissed him tenderly on the mouth, making a memory of his own with the sounds of the movie in the background and the smell of Noah's shampoo lingering in the air.

0000000

When they arrived at the hotel a little after ten, Noah stopped on the corner of his block and held Luke's hands. "This was a great day," he said. "Thank you so much for everything."

"Sure thing," Luke said. He put his arms around Noah's neck and leaned in closer. "And if you'd like to repay me, you can take me out to dinner tomorrow."

Noah smiled, then subsequently frowned when he remembered something. "Shoot, I can't," he said.

"Why not?" Luke asked.

"I have to go to this black-tie thing with my father tomorrow night," Noah said, rolling his eyes. "I don't know if I'll be able to see you."

Luke faked a pout and looked at the sidewalk. "You couldn't sneak out a little early?" He looked up at Noah and inched his face closer.

"Um . . . maybe," Noah said, grinning.

"Hmm, maybe's close," Luke said, getting closer to Noah's lips.

"I'll see if I can get away."

"Getting warmer," Luke said, breathing on Noah's lips and stopping just short of his mouth.

"I'll call you when I get out," Noah said softly.

Luke planted his lips on Noah's and gave him a kiss. He pulled away and smiled. "Much better," he said. He kissed Noah again and parted just as he trailed his tongue along Noah's bottom lip.

"Have a good night," Luke said, walking away.

Noah held out his arms. "That's it?" he said with a wide smile. "After all of that?"

No sooner had Noah spoke than Luke turned and jumped into his arms, kissing him passionately on the mouth and pushing him against the wall of the building. Luke ran his fingers through Noah's hair, his tongue massaging Noah's, his teeth climbing, a low moan escaping his throat until . . .

Luke slowly pulled away and rubbed the end of his nose against Noah's. "Here's looking at you, kid," he said, touching his thumb to Noah's chin.

Noah smiled and tried to lean in for another kiss, but Luke pulled away from his arms and began walking down the street.

"Goodnight," Noah called after him, his voice barely a whisper.

**To be continued**


	12. It means 'I love you'

Noah adjusted his tie in the mirror and wondered if it was straight. The left side of the bow looked bigger than the right, and the hem of his jacket seemed just a little too short when he turned the side—

"Noah, are you still getting ready?" the Colonel asked from the other side of the bathroom door.

Noah opened the door to let his father in. "I'm ready," he said, straightening his bow for the hundredth time. His father brushed the shoulders of his black jacket.

"You're hopeless with ties," the Colonel said. "Come on, the banquet starts in ten minutes."

0000000

Noah sat through the boring, nearly two-hour speech in the ballroom of the hotel with jittery feet and a mind focusing elsewhere than foreign relations. He pretended to be interested when his father went up to speak, but when a high-ranking official from the French Foreign Legion made a commanding speech, Noah actually found himself interested in what the decorated man had to say.

"So it is with great pride," the French General said in the echoing microphone of the podium, "and great respect for our armed forces that the people of France recognize good relations with American infantries. If we cannot stand together and fight as one, then we are no better off than our enemies fighting against each other over trivial things. I welcome our American friends this fine evening in Paris, and I hope in the future our countries can continue to work as one." The General held up his glass of champagne. "_Santé_,"

The room filled with black ties and evening-gowned women raised their glasses in the air and repeated the General's toast. Noah raised his glass and took a sip, delighting in the sweet, bubbly taste of the expensive drink.

When the presentations were over and the guests were allowed to mingle, Noah stood alone by the bar, circling his finger along the lip of his champagne glass and constantly checking his watch.

Noah's father found him amongst the crowd and stood by him at the bar. "Noah, what are you doing over here?"

"I don't know anyone here," Noah said.

The Colonel adjusted his tie and smiled out at the crowd in the room. "Would it kill you to introduce yourself to someone?" he said through clenched teeth.

Noah rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

"Ah, Colonel Mayer, so good to see you!"

The General who had made the profound speech patted Noah's father on the back and held a glass of wine in his other hand.

"Good evening, General Léonce," Colonel Mayer said. "It's a pleasure being here." The Colonel turned to his son. "This is my son, Noah. He's visiting from New York."

"Pleasure to meet you, Noah," the General said, shaking his hand.

"Very nice to meet you, sir."

The General smiled. "Ah, such good manners!" he said, turning to Noah's father. "You have taught him well, Colonel. If only I could get my daughter to be so well-behaved . . . aha, here she is now!"

The General put his hand on the shoulder of a young woman standing with her back to the men. She turned, a thin, wide-eyed woman in a crimson cocktail dress and black heels. Noah gaped and saw that it was Sofia, the woman he had met yesterday in the café.

"Gentleman," the General said, putting his arm around his daughter as though she were his prized possession, "this is my daughter, Sofia."

She smiled and waved her fingers. "_Bonjour_." She looked at Noah and grinned wider, revealing her straight, cigarette-stained teeth. "_Bonjour_, Noah. It is so good to see you again."

Noah set his champagne glass down and laughed. "Didn't think I'd see you again," he said.

"You two already know each other?" Colonel Mayer asked.

"Yes," Sofia said, "we met yesterday at a café."

Noah felt his heart seized when he realized Sofia had seen him with Luke, which meant she might spill the beans and let everyone know about his secret.

"Well, then," the Colonel said, puffing with pride. "We should leave these two kids alone, let them talk a little." He ushered the General into the crowd and turned his head, whispering to Noah, "For God's sake, son, ask the lovely lady to dance."

Noah blushed as his father disappeared into the crowd. He looked at Sofia and she lounged on the bar, asking for a glass of wine. "These are the same parties every year," she said. "My father makes a speech, everyone loves him, and the world believes for a moment that France and America have agreed on everything all along." She took a gulp of her wine and turned to Noah. "If you ask me, America has bigger problems than relations with France."

Noah took his champagne glass and held it in front of Sofia. "In that case," he said, "let's drink to blissful ignorance."

Sofia laughed and touched the rim of her glass to Noah's. "Speaking of which," she said, "I take it your father does not know about your affair with Luke?"

Noah shook his head. "No, he doesn't. And I probably don't have to tell you that I'd like to keep it that way, at least for a little while longer."

Sofia frowned at him. "Who do you think I am, _monsieur_?" She sipped her wine. "I never meddle in other people's business." She leaned back on the bar and looked out at the people standing and talking in the ballroom. "But I'll make a deal with you," she said. "I will not tell your father you are in love with another man, and you do not tell _my_ father I think my step mother is an obnoxious pig." She pointed out across the crowd to an older woman with large hips and a purple sequent dress. "There she is now."

Noah looked at the woman and held his hand out to Sofia. "You've got a deal," he said.

Sofia shook his hand and smiled. "France and America yet again reach an agreement," she said. "Perhaps these parties are not a waste of time, after all."

Noah laughed and downed the last of his champagne. The band fired up and began playing a slow piano piece. The floor cleared and couples began joining hands and dancing.

"Would you like to dance?" Noah asked Sofia.

She smiled and set her wine glass down on the bar. "I would love to," she said, taking his hand.

Noah led her out onto the dance floor and placed his hands where he knew a gentleman was supposed to and began waltzing with Sofia. She stumbled over his toes, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor as she watched her feet.

"I am afraid I have two left feet," Sofia said with a laugh.

"Don't look down," Noah said. "Look at me."

Sofia looked up at Noah with her large, sparkling brown eyes and smiled. She pressed her cheek to Noah's as they danced and sighed. "Luke is a very lucky man," she said.

Noah chuckled deeply in his throat. He spun Sofia out and back in his arms. She laughed as she tripped over her own feet, and put her cheek against Noah's again.

"_Je t'aime_," he whispered in her ear.

Sofia moved her head away from Noah's and looked at him. "_Pardon_?" she said with a laugh.

Noah blinked and narrowed his eyebrows, assuming Sofia hadn't heard him correctly. "_Je t'aime_," he repeated.

Sofia put a hand over her mouth and giggled. She rested her forehead on his shoulder as they danced.

"What's so funny?" Noah asked.

Sofia chuckled and looked up at Noah. "You are a very silly man, Noah," she said.

"What do you mean?" He spun her on the dance floor to keep people from noticing them and pulled her back into his arms. "It . . . it means 'I'm having fun,' doesn't it?"

Sofia laughed again, loud enough this time to get the attention of a few dancers around them. Noah felt his face burn with embarrassment.

"_Mon Dieu_, your French is quite terrible, Noah." Sofia laughed.

"Well, what does it mean?" he asked impatiently.

Sofia looked up at him, her laughing having tapered off. "It means 'I love you'." She said, as if it were common knowledge. "Who told you it meant 'I'm having fun'?"

Noah felt his stomach become unglued when he finally put two-and-two together. Luke had said those exact words during their day at the garden, Luke had lied to save himself and told him it meant something different. The room began to spin as the music played on, but it had nothing to do with how he and Sofia were dancing. His head swayed, his body feeling as though it were spiraling downwards very fast.

"He loves me," Noah said under his breath.

Sofia looked up from Noah's shoulder. "Noah, what's wrong?" she asked.

The music ended and the room clapped for the musicians. Sofia gave Noah a peck on the cheek and put her fingers on his face, forcing him to look at her. "You do not look well, _mon ami_. Are you alright?"

Noah smiled down at her tiny frame and kissed her cheek. "I'm great," he said. "I'm wonderful!" He led her off the dance floor and looked at his watch. Noah eyed the exit and started making his way out.

"Noah, where are you going?" he father asked, stopping him.

"I, uh . . ." Noah wiped the smile from his face and touched his head. "I'm not feeling too well," he said. "I think I'm going to go upstairs and lay down."

The Colonel looked him over and patted his arm. "Well, you do look a little pale," he said. "If you feel better later, come back down." He leaned in to whisper in his son's ear, "That Sofia is quite a lovely lady."

Noah nodded. "Yeah, she's great." Feeling restless and jittery, as though his bones were about to jump through his skin and run out the door, Noah gave his father one last nod and headed towards the exit. He loosened his tie and took out his cell phone, dialing Luke's number.

After three agonizing rings, Luke picked up. "Hello?" he said.

The sound of Luke's voice alone caused Noah to sway a little on his way to the hotel lobby. "How soon can you meet me at the café?" he asked.

Luke laughed. "I didn't expect to hear from you until much later," he said. "I'll be down there in ten minutes."

"I can't wait," Noah said. He flipped his phone shut and exited the hotel, not bothering to change or check his hair or even fix his bed upstairs to make it look like he was sleeping in case his father came in to check on him.

**To be continued**


	13. I am

**A/N: WARNING- This chapter has a sex scene. It's nothing too tasteless, I hope, but I've never written a sex scene for ANY ship, so it probably sucks. Again, you've been warned. If you don't like that kind of stuff, you might want to skip this chapter.**

* * *

The whole time they had coffee, Luke suspected something was a little off with Noah. He was quieter than usual, fumbling with his words and sheepishly looking away from Luke as they talked. When Luke took Noah's hand, he seemed to get more nervous, as though he needed to say something but didn't know how to let the words come out.

"Are you okay?" Luke finally asked him as they strolled down the street hand-in-hand.

Noah cleared his throat, praying his hand wasn't too sweaty in Luke's. "I'm fine," he said. "Why do you ask?"

Luke shrugged and smiled. "I don't know, you seem a little distracted tonight." He stopped and looked at Noah. "Did something happen at the party?"

Noah lowered his head and let out a light laugh. He squeezed Luke's hand and shook his head. "No, everything's perfect."

Luke looked him over, still not convinced Noah was telling him the whole truth, and pulled on the collar of Noah's black dinner jacket. "Well," he said, "you look very handsome tonight."

Noah gulped, feeling beads of sweat forming on his brow when he looked down at Luke. "Thank you," he said in a hoarse voice.

Luke leaned in and kissed his cheek and Noah suddenly felt he was made of electricity. He though he might faint from all the excitement going on in his head, thought he'd die from the anxiety of tell Luke that he knew how he felt. Instead he was silent, grasping Luke's hand as they continued walking down the street at night as though letting go would mean he would fall through the earth.

After turning a corner and walking a few more blocks, Luke stopped in front of a building and turned to Noah.

Noah smiled. "Where are we?" he asked.

Now it was Luke who looked nervous. He licked his lips and stared up at the building as though it were listening in on their conversation. "My apartment," he said. He stared at Noah hopefully, carefully planning his words so as not to frighten off his companion. "Do you want to come up?" he asked.

Noah smiled, the weight of the world collapsing around him like a pile of feather pillows, and all he could see in that moment was the stars in Luke's eyes. "Sure," he said.

0000000

About an hour after Luke had invited Noah up to his flat—a small, one-room area with the kitchen, living room, and bedroom sharing the same place—the boys sat on the hardwood floor of the flat, laughing and sipping Pellegrino. Luke had lit some candles and now sat cross-legged in front of Luke, trying unsuccessfully to teach him French. All the while, Noah kept eyeing the mattress that sat on the floor near the window, scared and curious and anxious all at the same time.

"Okay," Luke said. "We'll try an easier one."

"Okay," Noah said.

Luke paused, thinking of an easier phrase he and Noah had already practiced. "Hello, I am Noah."

Noah smiled, embarrassed by his lousy French and sat up straight. "_Bonjour_ . . ." he looked up at the ceiling, searching for the words. "_Je suis_ Noah."

Luke laughed. "Excellent, you're getting it!" He raised a finger. "Although, you're accent is still off."

"What's wrong with my accent?" Noah asked.

"You're saying it like an American, you have to say it like a Frenchman."

"But I _am_ American, and so are you" Noah said with a smile.

Luke made a face at him and grinned. "Here, I'll show you." He put his fingers on Noah's bottom lip. "Like this: juh-swee."

"Jah-swee." Noah said.

Luke shook his head. "No, no no—it's _juh_. Like that, _juuuuh_." He pulled Noah's lip downward as he made the sound, and Noah followed along with him.

"Juh," Noah said.

"Good, again," Luke pressed, keeping his fingers on Noah's lip.

Noah repeated the word and stared at Luke, feeling an electrical current between his lips and Luke's fingers, one that pumped his heart into overdrive and threatened to make it burst from his chest. "_Je suis _. . ." His eyes penetrated Luke's as his makeshift French instructor began rubbing his fingers over Noah's lips, feeling them as a blind man would for their texture and shape.

When Noah knew he couldn't stand it anymore, when all the energy in the room burst in a sudden explosion of fire and honey, hot and sweet and unbearable, Noah slowly took Luke's face in his hands and pulled him in for a soft kiss. They parted and Luke looked into his eyes, his expression saying nothing but everything at the same time, and he kissed him again. Luke put his hands on Noah's head and stroked his hair, letting Noah's tongue slip into his mouth and explore the area. Noah pushed him forward with his mouth and slowly laid Luke onto his back. He took his dinner jacket off and threw it to the side. They kissed deeply, running their hands along each other's back and arms. Noah parted from Luke's lips and trailed his mouth down to his jaw line, then to his neck where he sucked and licked at the skin.

A low moan escaped from Luke's lips. Noah parted and hovered over him, one hand on the floor keeping him steady and the other placed on Luke's hip.

"_Je t'aime_," Luke said, panting.

Noah smiled down at him. "I love you, too," he said.

Luke looked at him for a moment, then laughed, realizing he had been found out. Noah swooped down to kiss him again, his hips pushing up against Luke's. Luke undid Noah's tie and began to unbutton his shirt. When his chest was free, Luke ran his fingers along Noah's skin, causing Noah to shudder as he kissed him. Luke suddenly pulled away and put a hand to Noah's cheek.

"Wait," he said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Noah nodded. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

When he was positive Luke realized he was being sincere, Noah took off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Luke followed him by pulling his own shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. He put his hands on Noah's face as they kissed and felt a surge of arousal as Noah began unbuckling his belt. Noah slipped Luke's belt off and pressed his lover's head against the floor, grounding his mouth into Luke's.

Luke fumbled with Noah's belt and laughed when he couldn't get it undone. "Here," Noah said, putting his hands over Luke's. "Let me help you." He undid his belt and slid it out of the loopholes, feeling himself growing harder as he did. Noah bucked his hips against Luke's to ease the strain of his erection and kissed his chest.

Luke ran his fingers through Noah's hair and sighed with every press of Noah's lips against him. "_Je t'aime, je t'aime_," he whispered over and over.

Noah moved his mouth downward, past Luke's ribs and belly button, taking in his taste and scent. He stopped just short of the man's jeans and Luke arched his back, fully aware that Noah's lips were just inches away from his growing member. Noah moved up towards Luke's chest again and began unbuttoning his jeans, eliciting a strangled moan from Luke. As Noah pressed his lips to Luke's mouth, he slipped his hand inside of Luke's jeans and, with Luke's boxers separating them, he ran his fingers along the length of his erection. Luke moaned in Noah's ear and pushed his hips up.

"Don't tease me," Luke whispered.

His hot breath in his ear caused Noah to lose it, and he found himself pushing Luke's jeans down and taking them off. He marveled at Luke's throbbing member, clearly visible through his boxers and leaned into Luke to kiss him deeply on the mouth. As their tongues explored each other's mouth, Noah dipped his hand under the waistband of Luke's underwear and rubbed his palm along his erection.

"Oh, God!" Luke cried, wrapping his legs around Noah's waist.

As Noah slowly began running his hand up and down Luke's shaft, Luke stopped him by putting his hand over Noah's. "Wait," he said.

"What's wrong?" Noah asked, breathing deeply. He was afraid for a moment that they had taken it too far, that maybe Luke was having second thoughts.

Luke began unbuttoning Noah's dress pants. "Take them off," he whispered.

Noah did as he was instructed and eagerly took his pants off, pulling his briefs down with them to expose his hardening member. Luke stared at Noah's erection for a moment, a small smile curling on his lips. _I did that_, he thought. _I made that happen_.

Luke followed his own advice and slipped his boxers off, exposing himself completely to his lover. Noah placed his hand over Luke's erection again and felt a small thrill as it grew even harder in his hands, stiff and as firm as granite. He leaned over and kissed Luke lightly on the lips, rubbing his thumb over the moist head of Luke's penis.

Luke sucked in deeply, stealing Noah's breath. He crashed his lips onto Noah's again and bucked his hips as Noah slowly moved his hand up and down his shaft. Noah felt himself becoming impossibly harder as he watched Luke's face respond to the pleasure he was giving him. Luke closed his eyes tightly as Noah stroked him, his hips moving in a synchronized rhythm to Noah's hand. When Luke began muttering in French, Noah knew he was doing something right.

Noah kissed Luke's neck and held him tighter, increasing the speed of his strokes as Luke ran his fingers down his back.

"_Mon Dieu_," Luke panted in Noah's ear. "_Je t'aime, cheri._" Luke moaned deeply as Noah brushed his thumb over the head of his penis again. He felt his erection swell and his balls tighten in the anticipation of release.

"Noah . . ." Luke panted in between short, heavy breaths.

Noah quickened the pace of his hand, feeling as a drop of semen escaped his own member. He put his free hand on Luke's back and lifted him to a sitting position. They sat on the floor with their legs entwined in each other's. Luke moved his hips to the rhythm of Noah's strokes, pumping and grinding until Noah barely had to do any work at all.

"Oh, God," Luke cried, wrapping his arms around his lover's neck.

Noah put his free hand on Luke's back and pressed him closer, urging him to keep going. "Come for me," he said, kissing Luke's neck and looking down as his hand jerked along the length of Luke's erection.

With those words, Luke threw his head back and thrust harder, letting quick, gruff moans of pleasure escape from his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his orgasm take control, shooting his hot load on Noah's belly and hand.

Watching Luke come aroused Noah more than he ever had been before. He gently laid Luke back on the hardwood floor, took his hand away from Luke's still-hard member, which was wet with his partner's semen, and stroked himself. Luke saw what he was doing, his body still trembling and panting from his release, and began kissing Noah's ear. He whispered French words and kissed along the edges of his ear, nibbling and sucking on his earlobe.

Luke's hot breath caused Noah to shudder, and he stroked himself harder, imaging what the words Luke was saying meant. Luke put a hand over Noah's chest and blew a warm breath into his ear, brushing his thumb over Noah's nipple.

Noah straightened and drew in a breath. He beat himself harder, the come on his hand and stomach still warm from when Luke exploded on him. Noah moaned deeply over and over again, imagining what it would be like to taste Luke's sweetness as it shot out of him. He imagined his lips curled over the throbbing head of Luke's penis, his mouth working to give him that fantastic release.

Luke blew another warm breath in Noah's ear and he couldn't contain it anymore. With a loud moan, Noah came on Luke's inner thigh.

"Ohhhh!" he cried, tossing his head back. He stood perfectly still for a moment, straddling Luke's hips with his hand on his still-coming erection. When the long wave of pleasure passed over him, Noah looked into Luke's eyes, a fire burning in them that only he knew he had elicited. Still panting, Noah rested his head slowly on Luke's heaving chest.

"I love you," Noah said.

Luke ran his fingers through Noah's hair, thoroughly spent from their lovemaking. "I love you, too," he said. He kissed the top of Noah's head and laid back on the floor.

Noah sighed deeply, hugging Luke's torso. "So," he said breathlessly. "Ready for round two?"

**To be continued.**


	14. Becoming a Man

The next morning, as Noah cracked open his eyes at a skinny bar of sunlight streaming in through the window and onto his face, he couldn't remember where he was. A blink or two and the warmth of Luke's body next to his on the bed reminded him, and he smiled.

Luke lay curled next to him, spooned by Noah who had his arm around his waist. He stirred in his sleep and Noah brushed his fingers along Luke's arm, thinking back to their night together as he kissed his shoulder.

Luke stirred again and turned over, opening his eyes and smiling at his lover. "Hey," he said.

"Hey, yourself," said Noah.

Luke turned to face him. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.

Noah smiled. "Great. Last night was . . ."

Luke put his hand on Noah's cheek and grinned. "Amazing."

Noah moved in closer, his lips seeking Luke's. "Amazing," he whispered before planting a kiss on Luke's mouth.

Luke ran a hand through Noah's hair as they kissed deeply, moving his lips to his jaw line, then to his neck. He stopped when he heard a noise somewhere in the apartment, like a large fly buzzing on the windowsill.

"What is that?" he asked.

Noah narrowed his eyebrows and sat up, straining his ear to hear the sound. He threw the covers off and quickly jumped out of bed, realizing what the noise was.

"Oh my God," he said, taking his cell phone out of his pants pocket as it vibrated. "What time is it?" He looked at the clock on the wall as it read 8:30am and flipped his phone open.

"Hello?" he said.

"Noah, where are you?" It was Captain Conley, his usually quick, precise voice now stricken with worry.

Noah looked over as Luke got dressed. "I, uh—"

"Never mind," the Captain said. "You better get down here, quick. Your father is going ballistic looking for you. He's this close to call the police."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Noah said, pulling his pants on. "Try to distract him for me." Noah snapped his phone shut and threw his shirt on. "I'm dead, I'm dead . . ." he repeated, frantically searching for his shoes.

"Easy, easy," Luke said, holding his hands up in front of Noah. "It'll be okay."

"You don't understand," Noah said, putting his shoes on. "If he finds out where I've been, he'll . . . I don't know what he'll do."

"Maybe you should just tell him the truth," Luke said

"I'm not _ready_ to tell him the truth!" Noah tied his shoes and put his dinner jacket on. "At least not yet." He looked at Luke. "I'm sorry."

Luke pulled Noah closer by the collar of his jacket. "It's okay," he said. "Just do what you have to do."

Noah sighed, relieved. "Thank you," he said. He kissed Luke and turned away, opening the door to the hallway. "I'll call you later, I promise." As Noah headed out the door, Luke called to him.

"Noah!"

He turned.

"Whatever happens," Luke said, "I love you."

Noah smiled, forgetting for a moment that he was in a hurry. "I love you, too," he said.

0000000

At the hotel, Noah expected a search team assembled in the lobby just for him, all of the French Armed Forces called upon at that early hour to search for the American Colonel's son. But when Noah walked into the lobby of the hotel, it was business as usual—folks checking in, relatives meeting each other by the elevators. Noah looked to the seating area by the windows and saw Sofia sitting near the unlit fireplace with a magazine in her lap.

"Sofia," Noah called out, walking towards her.

She looked up at him and smiled in a pink silk blouse and a black skirt. "_Bonjour_, Noah. I'm waiting for my father, where are you coming from?"

"Have you seen my dad?" Noah asked.

Sofia stood and threw her magazine on the coffee table. "No, I haven't." She studied his worried face. "What's wrong?"

Noah looked over his shoulder at the doors of the hotel. "I was at Luke's last night," Noah whispered.

"Ah, _tres bien, mon ami_." Sofia said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Yeah, now my father's going insane looking for me. If he finds out where I've been—"

"Oh, I forgot," Sofia said, putting a hand to her face, "your father does not know about you." She moved closer to him, her face twisting in concern. "What are you going to say to him?"

"I don't—"

"Noah!"

Noah turned to the voice of his father and saw the Colonel coming from the elevators with Captain Conley, his face angry and focused. Noah felt himself quiver.

"Where in the _hell_ have you been?" the Colonel asked once he was by his son.

Noah bit his lip and looked to his shoes. "I, um . . ."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy!" The Colonel took Noah's chin in his fingers and forced his son to look at him. "I asked you a question—where have you been?"

The truth danced on Noah's tongue, threatening to leap out like a snake slithering around his teeth. His sweaty palms and red-hot forehead all told him he was scared out of his mind, scared of this man who was supposed to be his father, but somehow seemed more like a stranger he never met before. Noah looked beyond the Colonel's shoulder to Captain Conley standing near, but all the man could do was watch helplessly.

"I was, uh . . . I was—"

"He was with me, _monsieur_."

The sound of Sofia's voice caused all of the men to turn to her. She looked at Noah and took a bold step forward, drawing in a deep breath. "He was with me last night, Colonel."

The Colonel took his hand off of Noah's face and stared at the young woman. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

Sofia opened and closed her mouth, searching for the words. She laughed suddenly and rolled her eyes. "It is quite stupid, actually," she said. She looked at Noah and waited to continue, waited to see what his face looked like before going on with her lie. "At the banquet last night, I was very upset with my step-mother about something—a silly argument, really—and Noah comforted me."

The Colonel looked at Noah. "You spent the night in her room?"

Noah cleared his throat. His sweat felt like bullets that ran down his back. "I, um . . . yeah, that's right."

"We only talked, Colonel," Sofia said quickly. "We were up for hours, and Noah was so tired . . . he slept on the couch of my room."

The Colonel looked at his son again, his face a mixture of confusion and anger, as though all of this were a jigsaw puzzle he couldn't quite piece together yet.

"He was a perfect gentleman, _monsieur_," Sofia said, looking at Noah. "You should be proud to have such a caring son."

Sofia's words sliced through the air like a wheeling dagger, resonating with everyone in different ways. No doubt the Colonel felt a sense of embitterment at Sofia's comment that he should be proud of his only son—Noah could see it in the old man's face as he scowled at him. As for Noah, Sofia's lie that had snowballed into a life preserver for him left Noah drowning in guilt that, not only was Sofia's putting her own reputation on the line, but that she stuck her neck out for someone who was still a perfect stranger.

Noah gave her a sideways glance, nodding ever-so-slightly as if to thank her, and she smiled just as slightly at him.

"Well," the Colonel said. "Thank you for your honesty, Sofia."

"Please, _monsieur_, do not be upset," Sofia said, putting her hand on the Colonel's arm. "We did not want you to get the wrong idea and Noah—"

Colonel Mayer held up a hand to silence her, a rude gesture that made Noah want to sock him right in the face. "Thank you, Sofia." He put his hand on Noah's arm. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to talk to my son alone, now." He turned with Noah to the Captain. "Captain Conley?"

The Captain straightened. "Sir?"

"Please tell the General I'll be down shortly."

"Yes, sir." The Captain saluted as Colonel Mayer passed him by, his hand still on Noah's arm.

The Colonel kept his hand on Noah's arm as he led him to the elevators. He squeezed his bicep tightly, pressing his fingers into his jacket enough to make Noah recoil. The Colonel let him go once they were in the elevator and stared ahead at the doors, a safe distance from his son.

"Ow!" Noah cried as his father sharply let him go.

"Well, I hope you're happy," the Colonel said through clenched teeth.

"Actually," Noah said, rubbing the spot where his father had grabbed him, "I'm not."

"Don't play cute with me, Noah." The Colonel looked at his son, his rigid face as cold and clear as ice. The Colonel looked away when the elevator stopped a floor below theirs and a couple entered the lift. He smiled at them politely and they smiled back, wedging themselves between Noah and his father. When they reached their floor, the Colonel stepped out and Noah followed close behind.

"Dad . . ." Noah said, trying to keep up with his father as he walked down the hall. "Dad, will you just listen to me?"

The Colonel didn't speak until he opened the door to their room and let Noah in, slamming the door shut and facing his son.

"What are you so angry about?" Noah asked.

Colonel Mayer put his hands on his hips and paced the room. "I'm not angry," he said. "I'm upset." The Colonel stopped in front of his son, his face more lax but his eyes still searching frantically for the right thing to say. "She's the daughter of a high-commanding General in the French army, for God's sake! We're only here for two more days, Noah, and we're trying to make a good impression!"

Noah sighed and sat on the bed as his father ranted. It was almost amusing that his father had no idea what was really going on, but the guilt of Sofia's cover-up still ate away at him.

"I understand that you wanted to help her, and I understand that you tried to do the right thing because you like her," the Colonel went on, "but my God, Noah, think of how this will look!"

"Dad—"

"I'm surprised the General himself didn't have anything to say about it!"

"Dad, stop it!" Noah cried, standing from the bed.

The Colonel looked at him as though he had just been slapped. "Excuse me?"

Noah rubbed the back of his neck, the guilt from Sofia's words like a flesh-eating virus picking away at his skin. He took his coat off and threw it on the bed.

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Noah mumbled, walking over to the window.

He could feel his father's presence as the old man followed him closely. "I _what_?" The Colonel grabbed Noah's arm and turned him around forcefully. "What did you say to me?" When Noah didn't respond, the Colonel released his arm and threw up his hands. "You think this is a _joke_ Noah? Do you think I _want_ to become a laughing stock?"

"Right, because it's all about your image, Dad." The words shot out of Noah like vomit he couldn't hold back. He felt a burning sensation in his heart, a fire fueled by anger from dying embers, a blaze threatening to get out of control.

The Colonel's mouth hung open and he stared at his son. "Who taught you to talk this way?"

Noah brushed past his father to the door but the Colonel was quicker, meeting Noah there and holding his hand on the knob to keep his son from leaving.

"I am your _father_, Noah!" The Colonel cried, saying the word 'father' as if it were something to be feared than praised. "Ever since you were born, I've tried to discipline you to teach you boundaries, to respect me as a son should."

The fire spread up Noah's throat, clawing its way to the back of his mouth. He thought about that day in the market when his father so freely called Georges Benoit a faggot, thought about how willing and desperate Sofia and Captain Conley had been to cover for him as they all knew what Colonel Mayer would do if he ever found out the truth.

"You should have tried harder," he said.

The Colonel looked at Noah as if he were seeing his for the first time, his eyes penetrating his son's to peer deep into his soul "Who taught you to talk like that?" he asked. He pushed Noah's shoulder. "Huh?" He pushed him again. "I knew it was a mistake to let you go to that business school in New York. You've been away from my influence too long, obvi—"

"I'm not going to business school," Noah said.

The Colonel blinked. "What?"

The flames in Noah spread to his ears, down to his toes, shot out of his nose as he breathed quick, hot breaths like a bull ready to charge. "I'm not going to business school," he repeated slowly. "I got a scholarship to go to the New School for Drama."

Noah waited for his father to say something, but instead the Colonel just stepped back as though Noah had just confessed to murder. The truth, part of the truth Noah could stand to reveal, anyway, shook his father so badly, he wondered if the news was fragile enough for Noah to make him understand.

"I'm going for directing, Dad," Noah said, putting a hand out like he was asking for his father's thoughts on the matter. "And I'm good. I'm _really_ good, and I—"

"You lied to me this whole time?" his father asked.

Noah lowered his head, then raised it again, tired of being so submissive. "I was going to tell you—"

"You _lied_ to me?!" The Colonel yelled.

Noah took a step back against the door at the sound of his father's booming, angry voice. He thought about Luke, he thought about _Casablanca_ and the roses in the _Jardin des Tuileries _. . .

"I didn't mean to lie," Noah said. "I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to do what I love. I had to follow my heart—"

The Colonel put up a hand, that silencing hand he used to hush Sofia. "We're not talking about this now," he said. "You're going to go downstairs, explain to the General what happened with Sofia last night—"

"Sofia lied to you, Dad!" Noah cried.

He was sick of feeling bad, tired of hiding who he was and being silenced by his father. A small part of him liked the way his father's face stayed stuck in shock as Noah told him the truth about where he was going to school, but the other part of him, the part that didn't want to get hurt, was afraid of what might happen next if he put all of his cards on the table.

"What do you mean Sofia lied?" The Colonel asked. "Why would she lie to me?"

"She was protecting me because . . . because I was . . ."

The Colonel got in Noah's face, his dark eyes moving back and forth like tiny daggers. "You have three seconds to tell me where you were last night, Noah."

"I can't."

"One . . . "

"Dad, please—"

"Two . . ."

"_I can't_!" Noah cried.

"Three."

"I'M GAY!" Noah yelled.

Time suspended. The air grew still and horribly stuffy. Noah felt tears spring to his eyes, the firing inside of him spilling out and consuming his entire body. He looked at the floor and put his wrist under his nose, turning away from his father so as not to see the look o his face.

"You're . . . what did you say?"

Noah sniffled and continued looking at the spinning floor. His head suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. "I'm gay. I was with . . . I was with a man last night." Realizing how horrible this must have sounded to his father, Noah said quickly, "I love him."

He willed himself to look at the Colonel, and his expression was about what Noah had expected—hurt and confused and disgusted all at the same time. Though Noah wasn't surprised, it hurt him in that moment more than anything.

"You're lying," the Colonel said.

Noah moved to his father. "Dad—"

"You're lying to me, Noah! You're trying to get me back for what I think about that other school you're going to."

"I'm telling the truth!" Noah said, desperately clinging to the Colonel's suit jacket.

His father pushed him away. "I knew this would happen," he said, pointing a finger to his son. "I give you a little freedom and you throw it back in my face. Well let me tell you, Noah—pretending to be some fag to get revenge on me makes you even less of a man than I thought—"

A spark in Noah ignited and burst into an explosion of napalm and anger. In one fluid motion, he swung his fist and hit his father across the face, knocking the old man back on his heels and causing the Colonel to put a hand over his left cheek where Noah had hit him.

"Am I a man now?!" Noah yelled.

_Stay down, stay down,_ Noah prayed. _Please, God, just stay down _. . .

But God didn't listen, and in that moment, the wrath of the devil possessed the Colonel and he came swinging back, knocking his son on his face and causing Noah to fall back to the floor. He rolled on his side and held the area where it felt like a cinder block had tried to pass through. His father stood over him like the shadow of a demon, fists clenched as Noah stayed down.

"If it's true that you're gay," the Colonel said, "then you'll never be a real man."

Noah watched from the corner of his eye as his father turned and opened the door to the hallway. "You're not to leave this room," Colonel Mayer said. "I'll be back later, and then we can have a _real_ talk."

Noah jumped as his father slammed the door shut, his body trembling and his face sore from his father's blow. He hugged his knees and curled up in the fetal position, fighting a losing battle not to sob hopelessly.

**To be continued.**


	15. The Call

Noah splashed cold water on himself from the sink of his bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He touched the tender, bruising area where his father had hit him on his cheekbone—it was swollen and already turning yellow.

Noah had changed into a set of new clothes and brushed his teeth. He tried not to think about the force of his father's blow as he landed his fist on his face. He tried not to think about how the Colonel looked staring down at Noah from above, maniacal and disgusted, like he would have no trouble kicking Noah's face in if he was angry enough.

The thought of his father being so violent and terrorizing sent a shiver down Noah's spine. He dried his face on a hand towel looked at his reflection one more in the mirror. Had he changed since being with Noah? Did being gay really make him look physically different, different enough to enrage his own father?

No. The man was crazy. There was no other excuse for his behavior other than he was a bigot who went off the deep end at the shocking news. Still . . . Noah's revelation was, in fact, a pretty hard blow—it would have been hard for anyone, most of which his own father.

And yet there was so much hatred, so much anger that had erupted into the Colonel, far more than when he found out Noah simply wasn't going to business school. He might never see to reason or hear Noah's side of the argument. If the Colonel was as stubborn about Noah's orientation as he was about most other things in life, Noah knew he would never be at peace.

Noah threw the hand towel on the floor and decided he would do something about it. He picked his phone up on the dresser near his bed and dialed Luke's number. Noah moved to the other side of the room and looked out the window as if searching for some kind of salvation.

"Hello?" Luke said on the third ring.

Noah gulped. He hadn't known what he was going to say, much less how he wasn't going to sound like a hysterical idiot.

"Luke?"

Noah heard him sigh on the other end of the line, and subsequently turned when he heard someone coming in the room.

"Thank God," Luke said over the phone, "I was getting worried about you."

Colonel Mayer looked at his son, and Noah stared back with the phone pressed tightly to his ear.

"Who are you calling?" the Colonel asked.

"Noah?" Luke said on the line.

"No one," Noah said, holding tight to the phone.

The Colonel moved to his son and Noah felt himself inching further away, a rat trapped in a corner. "Give me the phone," his father said, holding out his hand,

"Noah, are you there?" Luke asked.

Noah closed his eyes to keep the tears from falling down his face. His one chance at escape, his one opportunity to call for help now seemed to be literally slipping through his fingers as he handed his father the phone. Noah could hear Luke's voice on the other end calling out to him even as his father pressed it to his ear to listen.

The Colonel looked at his son and Noah opened his eyes, feeling his father's gaze. He snapped the phone shut, cutting Luke off and handed it back to Noah.

"Who is he?"

Noah pursed his lips and shook his head. "No one."

The Colonel took another step towards Noah. "Is this the boy you were . . . did you see him last night?"

Noah made no reply. He grasped the phone lightly, as if his father's touch had tainted it somehow.

"Call him back," the Colonel said.

"What?"

"Call him back," his father said, "and tell him it's over."

Noah shook his head vigorously. "No," he said.

Noah," the Colonel said, his voice unusually calm and soft. "You're in a very fragile state right now. You're confused—"

"I'm not confused," Noah said.

"You're angry with me," his father continued, speaking the only truth he had uttered all day, "and you're looking for someone to vent your feelings to."

"Dad—"

"But talking to this boy now," the Colonel in his calm voice, "would only hurt you." He put his hands on Noah's shoulder and his son flinched. "You need to stay away from him in order to get back to your normal self."

Noah jerked away from him and shook his head again. "No!" he cried.

"Noah." The Colonel was still calm, but not there was an icy, foreboding look in his eye as he tried to explain to his son. "I don't want him . . . _corrupting_ you anymore." Noah's father paused, looking his son over. "And if he comes near you, I will see to it that he pays dearly."

The air escaped from Noah's lungs as he looked at his controlled, oddly tranquil father speak of doing harm to another human being. Had he heard right? Was the Colonel crazy enough to hurt Luke, or was he merely being ambiguous to scare him?

"What are you talking about?" Noah asked breathlessly.

The Colonel stared at him for a moment, seemingly weighing in on the impact of his threat. He nodded his head to the phone in Noah's hand. "Call him," he said.

Noah put a hand over his mouth to keep his lip from quivering. He turned to face the window and found himself wanting to jump out of it, to fly away and escape the horrible, nightmarish situation he found himself in.

Luke. He had to protect Luke. As much as he didn't want to admit it, maybe it was the best thing for all of them. Luke would be safe and the Colonel would be off his back until they got back to the States.

_And then what?_ Noah wondered.

He turned to his father, his tear-filled eyes pleading helplessly. "Please don't make me do this," Noah said.

"You've got five seconds, or I'm calling him for you," the Colonel said flatly.

Noah squeezed the phone in his hand and sniffled, fighting back his tears. He turned to the window again and slowly dialed Luke's number, feeling with every press of a button that he was tightening the noose around his neck even harder.

Luke picked up on the first ring. "Noah, are you okay?"

Hearing Luke's voice made Noah break down completely, strangling him in a fit of sobs. He put his hand on his head and glanced over his shoulder as his father watched him.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked. "What happened?"

"Luke," Noah began. He cleared his throat to ease the tremble in his voice. "I can't be with you anymore." There was a millisecond of a pause, and in that time alone, Noah felt the world collapsing on him.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Luke said. His voice had gone from worried to panic-stricken in less than three seconds.

Noah looked at his father again. "He knows," he said.

Another pause from Luke. Noah saw him pacing his apartment, trying to piece together everything he was telling him. "What happened? What did he do to you?"

"It's too complicated," Noah said, only half-lying.

"Noah, this is insane!" Luke cried. "He doesn't own you, just walk out!"

Noah saw a look in his father's eye, one that made him realize that he would, indeed, hurt Luke physically if he had ever tried to make contact with him. He knew he had to drive Luke away.

"Look, I don't want to see you anymore, okay?" Noah yelled. "Just leave me alone!"

"Noah, tell me the truth, tell me what's going on—"

"I have to hang up now," Noah said, trying to drown out Luke's pleading desperate voice.

"Noah, talk to me!" Luke cried. "Please, tell me what's going on!"

Noah snapped his phone shut and let out a sob. He let the phone fall to the carpet and put his forehead against the window, his grief swallowing him completely.

The Colonel patted Noah's shoulder. "Good boy," he said.

Noah felt a rage blooming inside of him, a thousand flaming arrows shooting from his gut. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to throw his father on the floor and punch his lights out for making him give up the one thing he loved more than anything.

Colonel Mayer took his hand away and bent over to pick up Noah's phone. "We'll talk later," he said to his son, turning away.

Noah heard his heavy footsteps on the carpet as he walked to the door and resisted the urge to turn around and give him a piece of his mind. He knew it would have fallen on deaf ears.

The Colonel exited the room and Noah was left standing by the window, tears streaming down his cheeks and a greasy sort of bile churning in his stomach. His mouth became water and he made a run for the bathroom, making it in time for the toilet as he threw up what was left of his happiness, his hope, and his life.

0000000

Luke walked down the street quickly, pushing past people as he dialed Noah's number for the eighth time. Voicemail. He took a corner and headed east down the sidewalk, imagining the worst for Noah as flashes of threats, of harsh words and menacing glances danced before his eyes. His heart pounded in his dry throat; he had never felt so scared for anyone in his entire life.

_Please, Noah, please be okay._

As he made his way to Noah's hotel, he tried not to think about the sound of his lover's voice on the other end of the phone—how afraid and hopeless he sounded, as though the Colonel were holding a gun to his head and forcing him to tell Luke those horrible things. The thought of Colonel Mayer doing this to his own son gave Luke the courage to walk through the hotel doors and potentially rescue Noah from whatever persecution he was under, whether he wanted it or not.

"Excuse me," Luke said to a woman at one of the check-in desks.

"_Oui, monsieur_?"

"I need to know the room number of a friend, his name is Noah Mayer"

"Are you a guest in this hotel?" she asked

Noah bit his lip. "No," he said.

"I am sorry, sir," the woman said, "we are not allowed to disclose that information to the public."

"I understand," Luke said, keeping his cool, "but this is important, he might be in trouble."

"I am sorry, _monsieur_," she said. "If you like, I can call the room for you to check up on them."

Noah considered this for a moment, looking out over the lobby. He stopped when he saw Sofia near the elevator with two uniformed men, one who was American. It must have been Noah's father.

Luke began moving over to them, then stopped. The Colonel didn't know what Luke looked like, but if he wanted Noah's room number, Sofia might have been his safest bet. He cleared his throat and straightened himself, walking over to Sofia as a Frenchman might.

_French lessons, don't fail me now_, he prayed.

Noah tapped the young woman on the shoulder. She turned and looked at him, her eyes widening.

"Sofia, _mon ami_!" Luke kissed her cheek. "_Comment allez-vous_?"

Sofia looked at her father and the Colonel and smiled at Luke. "_Bonjour_! _Tres bien, merci. Et vous_?"

"Sofia," her father said, "who is your friend?"

Sofia turned to her father. "Oh, how rude!" she said with a laugh. "_Pardon_—Papa, Colonel Mayer, this is . . ." she paused. "Antoine Lucian, he is a friend of mine from university."

"_Bonjour_," Luke said, shaking the General's hand.

"_C'est mon père_," Sofia said, pointing to her father, "_Et_ Colonel Mayer _d'Amérique_."

Luke took the Colonel's hand and grasped it tightly, squeezing him until the man pulled away sharply and laughed. "Quite a strong grip, you have there," Colonel Mayer said.

"Would you please excuse me?" Sofia asked, taking Luke's arm.

The gentlemen pardoned her and Sofia led Luke into a nearby elevator. Once the doors were closed and they were by themselves, Luke turned to Sofia.

"Where's Noah?" he asked.

"I do not know, Luke. His father has forbidden anyone to see him. He has been in a terrible mood all day."

"Which room is he in?" Luke asked.

"Ah, I know!" Sofia pushed the button for Noah's floor and looked at Luke worriedly. "I am very afraid for him," she said. "Do you think the Colonel has done something?"

Luke shook his head, his heart beating faster with every floor they passed. "I don't know. But I intend to find out."

**To be continued.**


	16. Fight

As Noah sat on the edge of his bed, wringing his hands and anticipating the moment his father came in the room again, he stared at the carpet and wondered what Luke must have been thinking. Was he worried? Did he think of him as a coward?

He jumped as a knock came at the door. Noah stood and waiting before, knowing his father wouldn't have knocked. He thought of who it might be and felt a surge of fear rush through his veins.

"Noah? Open up!"

He was right. It was Luke. Noah moved quickly to the door and opened it to see Luke and Sofia on the other side. He led them in the room and took a quick glance down the hall to make sure no one they knew had seen them.

"What are you doing here?" Noah asked. "I told you to leave me alone!"

He didn't want to believe he was relived and happy to see Luke. He wanted to pretend that he was angry and upset that Luke hadn't followed his order, wanted to drive him away for being the idiot that he was and not realizing how serious the situation had gotten. And still, as Noah saw the concerned, fearful look in Luke's eye, all he wanted in that moment was to sink into his arms and melt away.

Luke touched the area where Colonel Mayer had hit Noah and stroked his face. "Oh my God," he said. "What did he do to you?"

Noah felt himself becoming undone, then pulled himself away quickly and pushed Luke aside. "You can't be here," he said. He looked at Sofia's worried face. "You shouldn't have brought him up here!"

"I wanted to help!" Sofia cried. "I am afraid for you, Noah. Your father is—"

"My father is _none_ of your business!" Noah yelled. He turned to Luke. "You have to leave, he'll be back soon."

Luke shook his head. "No," he said, "I'm not going anywhere."

Noah lowered his head, frustrated by Luke's stubbornness. If he couldn't save Luke, he would at least try and save Sofia.

"Sofia, go downstairs before your father catches you up here."

"Noah—"

"Now!" Noah snapped. He had never felt so forceful, so anxious and desperate to be alone than he had in that moment.

Sofia looked at him for a moment, then turned and headed out the door. Once the door was closed, Luke turned to Noah again.

"We have to get you out of here," he said, putting his hands on Noah's arms.

Noah pushed him way again. "Don't you get it?" he cried. "I'm not going!"

"Noah—"

"I can't, alright?" Noah said, tears churning in the ocean of his eyes. "If I'm not here by the time my father comes back, he'll . . . it just won't be good, okay?" He looked Luke directly in the eyes, his face begging and pleading for him to understand. "If he does anything to hurt you, I'll never forgive myself." Noah began pushing Luke to the door. "Just go, please just go."

Luke jerk away from Noah's shoving hands and turned to him. "He can't do this to you!" Luke said. He put his hands on Noah's arms again and pulled him in closer. "We can leave, we can get out of here—"

"I can't!" Noah cried, struggling against Luke. He felt weak and lightheaded, falling into Luke's arms as all of his emotions spilled out of him at once. Luke held him tightly and stroked his head.

"It's okay," he said. He put his hands on Noah's face and gently raised his head to meet his eyes. "I'm right here," he whispered, "I'll never leave you."

Noah touched his forehead to Luke's, sobbing and shaking his head. "Please, Luke," he said, barely audible. "Please . . ."

Luke stroked Noah's face, their foreheads still touching. "I love you," he murmured. "I love you, I love you . . ." It became a mantra he repeated over and over again, as if saying the words would give Noah the courage he needed to get out of the hell they were in.

As Noah was about to give in, about to give up his façade of nobility and go with Luke, consequences be damned, the door of the room opened and Colonel Mayer stood on the other end. Noah quickly moved away and pushed Luke behind him, setting himself in the middle of his father and his lover.

"Noah," the Colonel said slowly. He looked at Luke over his son's shoulder, his mouth open but no words coming out.

Noah looked at his father defiantly, ready to protect Luke at all costs but scared out of his mind as to what the Colonel might do.

"Is this _him_?" his father asked, saying the word 'him' as if Luke were an infectious disease.

Noah nodded. "Yes. This is Luke."

Noah's father let out a slight laugh as though he knew he had been duped. "Should have known Sofia had something to do with it," he said. The Colonel looked at Luke again but the boy made no move, only stared at Noah's father as if we would attack at any moment.

Colonel Mayer walked around the room, circling Noah and Luke. The boys followed his movement, their eyes unwavering from his rigid face. Luke reached out and held Noah's hand from behind. The Colonel saw this and a change came over his face, a slight twitch as though an invisible hand had nearly slapped him.

"I think your friend should leave," the Colonel said to Noah.

"Dad, I—"

"With all due respect, sir," Luke said, "I'm staying with Noah."

"I don't believe I was talking to _you_," the Colonel said, looking at Luke as though he had been a constant source of annoyance throughout his whole life.

"I'm not going to let you hurt Noah again," Luke said. His voice was calm and steady.

The Colonel pointed to Luke. "This is none of your business!"

"No, it _is_ my business!" Luke yelled, losing his cool. He stepped out from behind Noah. "It's my business because I love him and _you_ caused him pain!"

The Colonel took a step towards Luke and Noah felt himself flinch. "I'd watch what you say, if I were you, boy," he said.

Noah held a hand up to his father. "Dad, please. Just listen to us—"

"I am _not_ going to have this faggot corrupt you!" Colonel Mayer yelled.

"No, that's where you're wrong!" Luke cried. "You talk about corruption, but the only person I see here hurting Noah is you!" Luke pointed to the Colonel. "All I ever wanted to do was love him, and yet you want to send _me_ away?"

"That's enough!" The Colonel yelled.

"It's _you_ who should be sent away for hurting him!" Luke screamed, his face getting visibly red.

"You disgusting piece of filth!" The Colonel charged at Luke, tackling him to the floor.

"Dad, no!" Noah cried He tried to pry his father off of Luke as the two men tussled.

The Colonel raised his fist in the air and hit Luke in the face. He wrapped his hands around Luke's neck and squeezed him tightly, the Colonel's purple-blue veins protruding on his red, angry face. As Noah tried to pull him off of Luke, Colonel Mayer became more and more aggravated at his sons attempts, like a bear being prodded at with a stick in a cage. He released a hand from Luke's neck and backhanded Noah from behind, hitting him so hard, his son fell back.

With a free from his neck, Luke pushed the Colonel off of him and hit him hard across the jaw. Noah's father tumbled to the ground like a tree falling in the woods and Luke scrambled over to Noah, who was still lying on the ground and holding a hand to his face.

"Noah, are you okay?" Luke breathed.

Noah took his hands away from his nose, tears stinging his eyes, and nearly gasped at the amount of blood coming from his nose.

The Colonel limped to his feet and stood over Luke and Noah—a huffing, gasping animal of rage and violence. Luke held Noah's head and defiantly faced the demon before them.

"If you want me gone," he said, his head throbbing from the Colonel's blows, "you're gonna have to kill me."

Colonel Mayer laughed as if getting Luke's permission were too easy a thing, and clenched his fists. "I'd rather go to jail the rest of my life for murder," he said, "than to see my son with you."

With that, the Colonel grabbed Luke by the collar of his shirt and yanked him to his feet, eliciting a frightened cry from Luke.

"No!" Noah yelled.

Colonel Mayer raising his first again and, while holding Luke in place by his shirt, threw a punch to his stomach.

"Dad, stop!" Noah cried.

But there was no stopping this hurricane, this force of mania that consumed Noah's father and turned him into a mindless, violent devil. The Colonel punched Luke in the stomach again and spun him around by his shirt, throwing him against the wall. Luke fell to the floor, doubling over and clutching his gut.

Noah scrambled to his feet and jumped his father, knocking the old man down. They struggled, Noah trying to pin his father down and the Colonel fighting desperately to take control. Colonel Mayer kneed his son in the stomach and Noah rolled over onto his back. The Colonel stood, his fists ready, his breathing like a rabid dog, eager to fight off whatever came at him next until—

Neither Noah nor Luke had heard the door of the room open with they were fighting the Colonel—Noah's father hadn't heard it either, because if he had, he would have seen Captain Conley enter the room and take a vase from the dresser. He would have been able to stop his inferior comrade from smashing it over his head and knocking him out. All of this could have been prevented, if only the Colonel had seen the Captain enter the room.

But nobody had.

Noah looked up at his spot on the floor, staring at Captain Conley as if he were a divine spirit from heaven. He looked at his father lying on the floor near the Captain's feet, bits of the vase that had struck the back of his head strewn around him.

The Captain threw the rest of the vase on the floor and sighed greatly, amazed at his own ability to do what he had done.

"Well," he said. "I had no idea it would come to this."

**To be continued**


	17. Aftermath

Noah sat up on the cool, paper-topped examination table and took the pack of ice away from his nose. "It doesn't feel broken," he said to the doctor before him.

She leaned over to him and touched his swollen, purple-red nose. "The bleeding has stopped," she said in her French accent. She wrote something down on her clipboard. "Are you sure there is no dizziness or nausea?"

Noah shook his head and dabbed the icepack on his nose. He looked over at the other bed in the hospital room he was in, watching as a nurse stitched Luke's left brow where the Colonel had cut him. The nurse pulled a strand of thread up from Luke's face and Noah turned away, feeling a wave of guilt crashing over his heart.

Noah's doctor put her fingers delicately under his chin and turned his head to face her. She placed a small, wing-like bandage on the bridge of his nose. "There," she said. She turned and made more notes on her clipboard. "If you feel lightheaded, please call me." She turned to Noah. "I'll be back in a bit. Try to relax."

She left the room and Noah looked over at Luke again as the nurse finished stitching him up. She put her tools on the tray nearby and wheeled it away. Luke sat up and touched his stitches, turning his head and smiling as Noah walked towards him.

"Hey, roomie," Luke said with a smile. He pointed to the cut on his brow. "Check it out, five stitches."

Noah put his hands in his pockets and lowered his head. He looked towards the nurse. "Can you give us a minute alone?" he asked.

The nurse nodded. "_Oui, monsieur_."

When she was gone and they were the only two in the room, Noah wheeled over the chair the nurse had used and sat next to Luke's bed.

"Nice shiner," Luke said, tapping the bruise on Noah's swollen nose.

"Don't joke," Noah said, shaking his head.

Luke looked at him, his playful smile diminishing. He scooted down the bed and sat on the edge, his legs dangling between Noah's. "Okay," he said. He put his hand on Noah's cheek. "What's wrong?"

Noah brushed Luke's hand away. "What's _wrong_?" he mimicked. "My father tried to kill you, and all you can do is make jokes?"

"Hey, come on—"

Noah wheeled himself further away from Luke. "No, I'm serious!" He looked at Luke with hopeful, pleading eyes. "He hurt you, and it's all my fault. How can you even stand to look at me right now—?"

"Hey!" Luke barked. "Don't talk like that."

"Well, it's true!" Noah cried, standing and pacing the room. "If you hadn't met me, none of this would have happened. We were better off not knowing each other."

"How can you say that?" Luke said, standing and moving towards Noah.

"Look at what he did! He would have never done that if we hadn't—"

"_Stop_ it," Luke said, putting his hand under Noah's chin and forcing him to meet his eyes. "I don't care what he did to me," he said in a softer voice. "I'd step into traffic for you."

Luke's declaration made Noah go limp. He held Luke's arm to keep from sinking to the floor in a puddle of water and swallowed hard, all the more guilty from Luke's confession.

"I can't stand what he did to you," he whispered.

Luke let out a slight laugh. "If you think _you_ feel bad, I've got a boyfriend with a hunk of raw meat for a nose."

Noah lowered his head again but Luke put his hands on both sides of his face to keep his head up. "Hey," he said. "It's not your fault. And if I hadn't met you . . ." he shook his head. "Man, I don't even want to think about how miserable I'd be." He offered a smile and Noah grinned slightly. "But the thing I'm most worried about," Luke continued, "is your happiness." He paused and searched Noah's eyes for the answer to a question he hadn't even asked yet. "What would make you happy?"

Noah drew in a breath as though swallowing Luke's question to digest it. He felt tears welling in his eyes as he fought against his own guilt.

"You," he said. He exhaled as though a giant weight had been lifted off of him.

Luke pulled him in for a soft embrace and stroked the back of his head. Noah squeezed him tightly and rested his head in the crook of Luke's neck. "I love you," he whispered onto his skin.

Luke kissed his neck and pulled away, his arms still around Noah. "I love you, too." he said. He leaned in and kissed him gently, brushing his lips across his cheek and hugging him again.

A knock came at the door and the two men pulled away. "Come in," Noah called.

Captain Conley entered with a man dressed in a suit and tie.

"Captain," Noah said.

He raised a hand in salute. "Sir." He put his hands behind his back and spread his legs apart at ease. "This is Mr. James Sterling, he's the political affairs director for the U.S. Embassy."

The older gentleman in a suit and blue tie held his hand out to Noah. "Good evening, Mr. Mayer."

"Good evening," Noah said, shaking his hand.

"First let me say that I am very sorry for what has happened with your father."

Noah nodded. "Thank you."

"Secondly, I'm sure you're aware that because your father was a visitor in this country, he will be tried accordingly and not given diplomatic immunity because of his statue as a ranking official in the army."

"Well, thank God for that," Noah said, looking at Luke.

"However," Mr. Sterling said, "Because he was a visitor, he will not be tried or incarcerated on French soil."

"What does that mean?" Luke asked.

"It means he'll be deported back to the United States within the next twenty-four hours to be tried in a US court."

Noah nodded. "Where is he now?"

"He's being held under detention at the U.S. Embassy until we can get him the next flight out."

Noah felt Luke's hand brush against his and a surge of courage came over him.

"If you like," Mr. Sterling continued, "we can get you on the next plane back to America on our dime. I'm sure you'll want to be there when your father goes to court."

"Yes, of course . . ." Noah paused and looked at Luke. "What about Luke? He's here studying, shouldn't he testify, too?"

"We can straighten that out with the prosecutors," Mr. Sterling said. "I'm sure they'll be able to postpone the trial for a few weeks so your friend can finish his semester."

"Thank you," Luke said.

Mr. Sterling nodded and placed his hands at his front. He looked back and forth at the boys. "Well," he said after a moment of silence, "I've said all I needed to say." He stuck his hand out again. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Mayer," Mr. Sterling said, shaking Noah's hand. "We'll set you up in a room at the Embassy tonight."

Noah briefly looked at Luke. "Okay," he said.

"If you'll follow me," Mr. Sterling said, "we have some things for you to fill out at the Embassy."

"Could you give me a moment, please?" Noah asked.

Mr. Sterling nodded. "Of course. I'll just be outside." He left the room and Noah and Luke stood with Captain Conley.

"It seems I'll be joining you back to New York," Captain Conley said. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "They need me to testify, as well."

Noah pursed his lips and moved towards him. "Captain," he said, "I can't thank you enough for what you did for us. And not just keeping me and Luke's secret, but stopping my father when he . . . when he was—"

The Captain put his hand up. "Don't think twice about it. You're a good man, Noah." He paused and looked the boys over. "Your father was a hero in combat, make no mistake about that," he said, "but what he did to you both was inexcusable. No amount of camaraderie could make me second-guess my actions."

"You saved us both," Luke said. "We owe you our lives."

A small smile curled the Captain's lips. He looked at Noah. "Just remember, son: we'll always be here to help you."

Noah smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Even though I'm—?"

"That's not an issue," the Captain said, raising a hand. "What matters is your safety. And like I said before, we—myself, included—will always be here to help you."

Noah nodded to him slowly and put out his hand. "Thank you, Captain."

The Captain shook his hand and pulled him in for a hug. He patted Noah's back and released him with a salute. He turned on his heels and began for the door until Noah called out to him.

"Captain?"

He turned.

"Sir?"

"Could you repeat what you said before you told me my father was a hero?"

The Captain tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Noah wrung his hands together. "I mean . . . after you told me not to think twice about you saving us." He swallowed hard and turned his eyes towards the floor. "Could you repeat what you said about me?"

Noah chanced a look at the man in uniform before him and Captain Conley smiled. He put his hand on Noah's shoulder and Noah raised his head to meet his eyes.

"You're a good man, Noah," the Captain said.

Noah felt his bottom lip quiver and bit down on it before the Captain could see him. He blinked rapidly to keep the tears from springing out of his eyes and nodded and his throat tightened.

"Thank you," he said in a raspy voice.

**To be continued**


	18. A Dream

**A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content. You've been warned.**

* * *

That night, after Noah had filled out enough paperwork to make a phonebook, he lay on his bed in the room the Embassy had assigned him, a small, moderately-decorated room with only half of the grand appeal the Hôtel Lotti possessed. He sighed and touched his fingers to the bruise on his nose, pulling back sharply at the pain. Even though they had moved his father from the Embassy to a detainment center, Noah still felt a haunted sort of feeling from his father, that as long as the two were in the same city, the Colonel would never really leave him alone. His cruel demeanor hung over him like a restless spirit, and Noah found himself moving off the bed and to the adjoining bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

Noah carefully dabbed his face with a dry towel, outlining the bruises the Colonel gave him and stared deeply in his own reflection. He surmised that he must have looked as ugly on the outside as his father had been on the inside, and the though caused a sickening feeling to come over him.

He turned off the light in the bathroom and took his coat from the bed, pulling it over himself and taking the key to his room out of his pocket.

0000000

Noah rapped twice on Luke's door and counted two of his own heartbeats before Luke answered.

"Noah," Luke said, looking him over. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" Noah asked.

Luke nodded and ushered him into his apartment. He closed the door quietly and leaned back on it. "Is anything wrong?" he asked.

Noah turned to him, unable to say what he was thinking. The stitches on Luke's brow reminded him of why he was so hesitant, but the look in his lover's eye gave him the courage not to run away. He put his hands in his coat pocket and licked his dry lips.

"I, um . . . I can't stay long," he said. "They've got me on a nine a.m. plane back to New York tomorrow."

Luke made no reply, only nodded and waited for Noah to continue.

"I just . . .I wondered if . . ." Noah rubbed the back of his neck, anxious at his lack of words.

"Here," Luke said, motioning towards the bed, "have a seat." He cleared his clothes off and smoothed the sheets before beckoning to Noah to join him.

Noah sat beside him and put his hands together between his knees, his back hunched over as he sat on the edge of Luke's floored bed. He hesitated before speaking.

"It's so strange, I . . ." he paused, thinking of the words, "I've never experienced this feeling before."

Luke grinned. "I'd say there are a lot of experiences you've never felt before up until now." He nudged Noah and his companion laughed.

Noah looked at Luke, his face becoming serious again. "I don't really know how to say this," he said.

Luke shrugged and brushed his thumb over Noah's chin. "Just speak from the heart," he said.

Noah sighed and took Luke's hand. "Everything that's happened this past week . . . all of it. Meeting you, being with you, and having to deal with my father . . . it all feels like this crazy dream. Like, once I go back to New York, things will be different."

"Do you want them to be different?" Luke asked.

"No," Noah thought about his answer. "Well, the part about my dad—yes, of course. But with you, even though it's new and scary, I wouldn't trade anything for what we had this week."

"What are you saying?" Luke asked in a soft voice. "Are you saying you don't trust your own feelings?"

Noah looked away from Luke and shrugged. "I don't know," he said.

Luke put his hand over Noah's and guided it to his chest, placing his palm over his heart. "Do you trust this?" he asked.

Noah turned his head towards him slowly, his eyes taking twice as long to reach the place where Luke had his hand. He took long, laborious breaths as though a rubber band was slowly tightening around his chest.

"I don't want to leave you," he said.

Luke smiled. "Hey, it's only a few weeks." He took Noah's hand from his heart and kissed the upside of it. "And anyway," he said, "We'll always have Paris."

Noah felt a warm feeling come over him at Luke's words. It settled itself around him like a comforting bath—the restless, angry essence of his father now gone. He leaned in and put his hand on Luke's cheek, kissing him softly. He parted and touched his forehead to Luke's, running his fingers along Luke's face.

"What are you doing?" Luke asked with a smile.

Noah closed his eyes and kissed him again, his fingertips trailing along Luke's jaw. "I'm remembering you," he whispered. He looked in Luke's eyes and saw roses blossoming in his pupils, the lights of Paris flaming around his irises in a burst of gold.

Noah took his hand and kissed it, bringing it to his face for Luke to touch his cheek. Noah closed his eyes again and searched Luke's face with his fingers like a blind man, making a mental image of every curve and scar and contour he could feel. Luke slowly lowered his hands to Noah's waist and moved his hands under his shirt, trailing his fingers up Noah's back.

Noah rested his hands on Luke's neck and fluttered soft, quick kisses on Luke's mouth, his cheek, his brow, his nose. The softness of Noah's mouth caused him to sigh, and he trailed one hand to his companion's chest. Noah felt the electricity in Luke's fingers and kissed him to keep from moaning. He parted and pulled his shirt off over his head. Luke followed soon after and ran his hands up and down Noah's arms.

Noah could feel himself breathing heavily, as though that rubber band around his chest had grown tighter the instant he had take his shirt off. He put one hand on Luke's waist and placed the other on his cheek, stroking his face.

"If this is a dream," he said. "Then I don't want to wake up."

He pulled Luke's face to his and kissed him deeply, letting his tongue explore the area between Luke's teeth. Luke moaned in response, liking the way Noah had always taken charge when kissing him, as passionate as when they first stole a moment together on the plane. He followed his lead as Noah lay back on the bed, his hips off to the side, but his arms straddling both sides of Noah's head as they continued to kiss.

Noah urged Luke closer and soon Luke was straddling him, sitting on top of his hips with his knees on either side of Noah's waist. He felt himself becoming hard through his denim jeans and kissed Noah. Noah responded by rubbing his hands up and down Luke's bare back, urging him to kiss deeper and bucked his hips to ease the strain of his growing erection.

The sensation of Noah's hips moving beneath him caused Luke to moan, and he kissed his way down to Noah's neck.

"We don't have much time," Noah breathed, massaging Luke's hair as he kissed and sucked on his skin.

"We have enough," Luke whispered in his ear.

Luke's hot breath caused Noah to shudder and he felt himself becoming impossibly large through his jeans. Luke licked and bit at the skin of Noah's neck, rubbing his hand over his chest again and pressing his hips closer to Noah's.

Noah closed his eyes and groaned, taking in every moment as though it would disappear in an instant. He was aware of the sweat on Luke's brow as he kissed him, could feel his own pulsating member yearning to reach beyond the confines of his denim jeans. He reached his hand down between their hips and pulled on the waistband of Luke's jeans, a signal that he wanted to go further.

Luke kissed his way down Noah's chest, sliding himself off of his hips and unbuckled his belt as he kissed his belly. Noah felt himself sweat at the anticipation of what was surely coming next. He sat up as Luke unzipped his jeans and his lover looked up at him from the edge of the bed.

"What is it?" Luke asked.

"You don't have to do that," Noah said, breathing heavily.

"It's okay, I want to," Luke said, releasing Noah's erection from his underwear. "Do you want me to?"

Noah looked at him for a moment, feel a familiar surge of excitement coming over him he had felt when he first kissed Luke on the airplane, then again when he saw Luke naked for the first time. He nodded his head.

"Yes."

Before Noah could utter another syllable, Luke buried his mouth over him and sent such intense waves of pleasure, he found himself saying the word over and over again.

"_Yes_ . . . _yes_ . . ."

Luke maneuvered his mouth like an expert, sucking and licking in all the places he knew Noah liked by the way he moaned. Noah put his hand on Luke's head and urged him in the same way he had when he kissed his neck. He put one hand behind him on the bed to keep from falling back and moved his hips slowly in a rocking motion, careful not to give Luke too much of himself at once.

Noah could feel himself building towards climax and closed his eyes, letting out a soft mewing sound as Luke quickened the pace of his mouth.

"Oh, God . . . _yes_!"

Noah heard himself moaning wildly, his hips bucking as he felt his balls tighten. Luke trailed his mouth down Noah's length and sent him over the edge by licking his head. Noah fell back on the bed and let out a loud groan as he came in Luke's mouth. He panted and trembled at the intensity of his orgasm, rolling his head to the side to watch a blurry Luke crawl over him and straddle his hips, now stark naked and glistening with sweat. How long had he ridden that wave of pleasure? A minute? Ten minutes?

Luke kissed his mouth and smiled. "Has anyone ever done that for you before?" he asked.

Noah shook his head, no. It was all he had the energy to do.

"Did you like it?"

Noah nodded his head, yes, and chuckled.

"Good," Luke whispered in his ear with a smile. "Because you've got some major catching-up to do," he kissed the area behind Noah's ear, "and not a lot of time to do it in."

**To be continued**


	19. Departure

**A/N: Last chapter! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!**

* * *

An hour later, they lay in Luke's bed together, both spent from their lovemaking and occasionally running their hands along each other's bodies.

"Let's hear it again," Luke said.

Noah smiled and turned on his side to face Luke, propping his elbow on the pillow to hold his head up with his hand. "_Je suis_ Noah."

Luke smiled. "Perfect." He leaned over and planted a kiss on Noah's forehead. "Now how do we order in a restaurant?"

Noah rolled his eyes to the ceiling, thinking. "_Est-ce que . . . je peux sil-vous plait . . . avoir __coq au vin_?" He smiled at Luke, expecting a reward for his almost-impeccable French.

Luke kissed his neck and whispered in his ear, "_Très bon, mon petit chou_."

Noah laughed and brushed the hair away from Luke's eyes. "Am I still an American idiot?" he asked.

Luke shrugged. "Well, you'll always be an idiot."

Noah gaped at Luke. "_What_?" he cried in mock outrage. "What was that?" He poked him in the ribs until Luke was laughing.

"Okay, okay!" Luke laughed, pushing Noah away.

"Does France concede, then?" Noah asked, pulling his hands away.

Luke raised a mischievous eyebrow and said in a French accent. "_Never_."

Noah tickled him again and Luke rolled over on his back, laughing hysterically and trying to push Noah off of him. Noah stopped as he hovered over Luke and kissed him softly on the mouth. He rested his weight on his elbows and look at Luke.

"What else did we go over?" he asked.

Luke lowered his eyes, then stared up at Noah. "_Reste avec moi_," he said in a quiet voice.

Noah looked at him, confused. "I don't think you taught me that one," he said, smiling.

Luke stroked Noah's back and sheepishly stared at him. "Stay with me," he said.

Noah's face softened. He laid himself down on top of Luke and rested his head on his chest. "I wish I could," he said.

Luke ran a hand through Noah's hair and fought the tears stinging his eyes. He closed his eyes and tried to think about their day in the garden, tried to think about the heroes and heroines of _Casablanca_ and _Roman Holiday_, how he and Noah had somehow emulated them in their short time in Paris. But the though of Noah leaving him soon weighed too heavily on Luke's heart, and he sniffled when a tear fell down his cheek.

Noah raised his head from Luke's chest and looked at him. "Hey," he said, noticing his face. He sat up and brushed Luke's tear away with the pad of his thumb. "It's okay."

Luke laughed through his tears and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be like this—"

"It's alright," Noah said. He kissed Luke's cheek and wiped the tears away from his face. "Hey, look at me," he said.

Luke focused his darting eyes on Noah's.

"Don't be sad," Noah said, smiling. "We'll always have Paris."

Luke managed a small, knowing grin and wrapped his arms around Noah's neck, pulling him down for a hug. Noah embraced him tightly, the two men holding each other for minutes, hours, lifetimes until Noah gathered every fiber of his being and managed to leave Luke with a kiss and a promise before dawn.

0000000

At the terminal gate at the airport the next morning, Noah hadn't seen so many sullen faces since his grandfather's funeral when he was ten. His plane was parked at the gate and the attendants were taking tickets for his row. The Captain stood beside him with his carry-on.

"Am I leaving or am I dying?" Noah asked with a laugh.

Sofia stood next to Luke, her tiny, thin frame wilting like a flower in her red dress. She pouted and blinked her tears away in a manner Noah surmised only a French girl could do.

"I can't believe you are leaving," Sofia said, crossing her arms over her small chest and tossing her hair. "Paris will not be the same without your terrible pronunciation."

Noah moved to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You'll be fine." He glanced at Luke and leaned in closer. "Keep an eye on him while I'm gone, alright? Don't let those French poets steal his heart."

"As if _I'd _be interested," Luke said with a wink.

Sofia put her arms around Noah's neck and hugged her tightly, feeling as though he might break her in the process. "Thank you," he said in her ear, "for everything you've done for me."

Sofia pulled away. "_Naturellement_," she said, sniffling and wiping a stray tear from her face. She smiled at Noah and pinched his cheek. "Now leave before I fall in love with you."

Noah laughed and kissed her hand, eliciting a soft cry from Sofia. "_Je t'aime_."

Sofia giggled and put her hands to her face. "You are hopeless," she said with a smile through her fingers.

Noah grinned at her and Luke touched his shoulder. "Alright," Luke said, "break it up, you lovebirds."

Noah turned to Luke and stared at him for a moment, unable to think of what to say. When he knew words wouldn't suffice, Noah pulled him in for a tight hug and rubbed his back. They swayed together, almost reliving the same moment they had when they first got off the plane together. Luke whispered something to him in French, but Noah knew it didn't matter what it was, only that he had said it with love and tenderness.

They parted slightly, their arms still around each other and their foreheads touching. "You made me a man," Noah said.

Luke smiled. "You made _yourself_ a man."

Noah rubbed the tip of his nose to Luke's. "You made me better." He kissed Luke softly on the lips, his mouth lingering long enough to taste him, to taste Paris and the memories they made together. They hugged again and Luke dotted Noah's neck with kisses, one for each day they spent together.

"Noah," Captain Conley said from behind.

Noah turned and faced him.

"We have to go," the Captain said.

Noah turned back to Luke—no tears, no hint of sadness, only a deep understanding they both felt that they would be parted for now but reunited later. Noah hugged and kissed him again, squeezing him tightly.

"I love you," he whispered.

"_Je t'aime aussi_, _cheri_," Luke responded.

Noah parted from him and pulled his carry-on over his shoulder. He touched his thumb to Luke's chin and smiled. "Here's looking at you, kid."

Luke laughed and shook his head at Noah's sappy attempt at goodbye. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

Noah nodded and stroked his cheek. He let his hand fall and turned away, leaving Luke with the ghostly after-effect of his touch. As Captain Conley and Noah headed towards the gate, Noah turned his head and waved to Luke and Sofia. They waved back, watching him vanish into the tunnel to the plane.

Luke put his arm over the crying Sofia and kissed the top of her head. They stood together and watched Noah's plane until it pulled away from the gate, disappearing on the runway strip until they lost track of it amongst the parade of other aircrafts.

Luke squeezed Sofia's shoulder. "Come on," he said, leading her away towards the terminal.

Sofia sniffled and wiped the last of her tears away as she walked with Luke.

"Tell me, Sofia," Luke said. "Do you like _coq au vin_?"

Sofia looked up at him and smiled as his arm was still around her. "_Oui, mon ami_," she said.

"Why don't we go into town and have a meal in honor of Noah?"

Sofia laughed and nodded. "_Oui, très bon_." She pointed a finger to Luke. "But if we are to dine out, I insist on paying."

Luke chuckled and patted her back. "Sofia, I think you and I are going to be great friends."

**END**


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